(Dedicated to the Lovers of Riot Porn)
The demonstration approaches its desired end. Now the true face of the opposition is revealed, and the throng must come to grips with the brutal force of the law. Metal bars, pistols, shields, emblazoned armour; the sado-masochism of power. But the body of demonstrators vibrates to its own rhythm, writhing and arching with the flexible elegance of a cat, seduced by the will to stand beside their fellow man and love for the beauty of the streets.
The first stone is thrown. Rigid with the craving for resistance, the stone curves through the evening air, heavy with the yearning impulses of a thousand frustrated youths. The stone pounds the earth, raising a soft billow of dust. Heavy boots shudder and evade it only to be concealed by a quick blast of flames. The shattered bottle lies spent as flames lick and tease the softened plastic shield. Gasps echo and are consumed.
A canister rises and covers the space between force and violence; pausing erect in the air it plunges too early, just missing the gathered, swarming mass. Swathed in the veils of Salome, she takes the pulsing canister in hand, hot and hard it bruises her eager palm. She lifts it from below, avoiding the tender spitting head and thrusts it forward. It describes a thin arc of acrid opacity and explodes as it breaks into the ranks.
Another canister penetrates the dark mass, and as pulses of white steam surge it fills the gap. The dense masses surround it and close in upon the fertile throbbing clouds. Deep inside the hooded mass, the last tears trickle and are wasted upon the broken marble. Coursing in their infatuation, the crowd becomes one and absorbs the spectre of inflated capital which sinks below the crest of wave after wave, the damp shards cutting into the fibrous stakes of its neck. The perversive gas is forgotten amid the turbulent rapids which swell and rise, flowing through carved passages and changing course with the ease of a discharged pearl, loose upon the ocean’s floor.
Filled by the pleasure of its own movement the body of demonstrators perforates into a multitude of different sensations, overflowing with the teeming abundance that spreads from core to extremity; finally to dilate and reform into a single entity whose scalding determination challenges the very heat of the stars and can do nothing but press forward… Athens burns.
— Thea (under the influence of Judith)