REVOLT AND CRISIS IN GREECE
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thinking back to the demonstrations, the assemblies, and the gatherings I can often place him there. He was handsome, with a height that crouched slightly when he spoke to you, and like Orwell’s Italian anarchist in Homage to Catalonia, his striking features told stories, detailing his personality; so swelled with candour there was no room left for ferocity. Without any of the fabled Italian’s justified viciousness, his face was likely more moving and it also made you immediately like him. More importantly, I wanted him to like me; because he had a distinct way of greeting you with a smile that made you go inside yourself to recognize your very own uniqueness. Far too humble to command it, respect was instead willingly bestowed, not only due to the way he carried himself but likely because everyone else wanted a smile from him also. During the last large demonstration in December, after the procession had ended, a clash had predictably erupted, only to be momentarily ceased by the riot police’s Israeli tear gas searing open a sizeable space between them and us. From within the crowd, at a safe distance from the cops’ batons, I could faintly make out something, that seemed like it was a universe away, moving in every direction except in line-formation with the MAT. You can suspect me all you want of over-embellishment, even condemn me of the charge, but I swear, this almost indiscernible object appeared to my two tear gas burned eyes as a star, enmeshed in all the instability and chaos of a ternary system. Given the complex dynamic between the MAT, the boulevard, and this nebulous mass, the way in which they repelled and attracted each other, emitting and exchanging waves of force, I cannot be convinced otherwise that what I observed was none other than the disorderly interaction of celestial bodies. It wasn’t until the triplet moved closer that I recognised him, alone. Rather than flashing his sought after smile, he instead, through a gas mask, bared his teeth at the line of riot cops like a careering ram set upon by bees. With more bestial qualities than human, he head-down crashed into their shields with the impact of a wild herd, and instantly after the collision, with a slight pivot, veered to the side and thrust himself into a bank with the same power, only to continue repeating the entire motion again and again. With his back turned to the group of onlookers, he inched toward us after each smash, and from where I stood, I came to understand the Greek expression “gallons on his shoulders,” as it became obvious he could carry us all in his backpack, unburdened by the weight, and continue fighting with the same intensity. Along with a few other