PART THREE, SEVENTEEN
I got up. I just couldn’t concentrate into my work, and I had to leave the centre too immediately. The sky had turned quite overcast. The grey pall was uncalled for. Everything around seemed to be under a spell. The cars that passed up and down were suddenly doing so, as if under the influence of an invisible wand. The common teenager of the street who ran behind cars singing songs at the top of his voice and who moved with long strides talking to no one, was sitting at the foot of the pavement, his mind lost somewhere. Something far to the right caught my eyes. A group was moving up. The youths held placards. r**e IS A CRIME read one of them. Another one said RAPISTS TO BE PUT BEHIND BARS. The gathering was of quite a number, an average count of not less than two hundred. They walked
- Writer
