Theora’s not sure who came up with this protest formation but she likes it: there are a dozen of them, bound with gaff tape, turtled together like legionnaires against the bullhorns and the tear gas. Their signs are painted on riot shields.
The problem with this particular turtle is it seems to have no head.
“Embassy row is this way,” insists a man with regrettable dreadlocks. The police, behind them, look hesitant.
“Fuck that, the pigs are right there!” Theora howls with glee.
“Would you please stop elbowing me I am wearing a VEST FULL OF BOMBS DON’T SHOOT,” says Nasser.