some nights we kick blunts and talk visions of new worlds beyond capitalism, patriarchy, white supremacy, as symphonies by frank ocean paint the walls around us. other nights we pulse the streets with resistance, light footsteps maneuvering around NYPD squad cars, sound cannons, helicopters, assault rifles. we counter military resources with movement, breaking like ocean waters to dance around police aggression, swallowing empire with rhythm. our feet traverse over a chorus of ancestors, eager to guide us, eager to remind us, we have astral mothers bearing light right beside us.

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