Nothing’s Sweeter Than Picket Signs: the March of March 15th

My brother and I didn’t prepare any poster or costume or poetry for Montreal’s last big climate strike. We just got off at Place-Des-Arts and listened to speeches in a December cold and shouted our voices dry with 50,000 other voices. We strode to Mount Royal. Protestors were beating the drum, dancing and shouting their way up to the mountain. Women yelled praises out their house windows, clapping their pots and pans with wooden spoons to us down in the street. It was a real gay delight and the peoples…

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