Demonstration on Presidente Vargas Avenue, on 06/20/2013
The first sounds hold a certain joy. They register the art of the encounter: greetings, hugs, the smack of kisses, the unfurling of flags and banners, the organizing of those about to march side by side. The street vendors arrive, the noise of cans being opened. Someone strikes up the first protest song, the first anthem, the first political chant. The march begins: the shuffle of footsteps and the mingling of voices. What is being sung at the front of the group is not always what is being chanted by the last rows. The gist of the singing, however, is the same. They demand basic rights. They denounce historical inequalities. Voices wanting to be heard.
Photo: Thiago Diniz - Demonstration in support of education - 2013
The nuances of the sound waves begin to gain tension. The start of a stampede, screams. Everything calms down again. New turmoil. More running. More calm: the chant can be heard once more. Suddenly, the first sound of a bomb. The stampede then breaks loose. Screams, hurried footsteps, “over there!”, the dread before the police siege, the trotting of horses announcing that repression is everywhere. The bursting of rubber bullets grows intense, the landscape is engulfed by the haze of gas, thrown by the police to disperse the protest. Cries cut through the air asking for help for the people who are collapsing, lying on the sidewalk. Sounds of desolation. Silence.
Photo: Thiago Diniz - Demonstration in support of education - 2013