The Street where I live

When I got off the metro this morning I felt a burning sensation in my nose and ears. As I headed up to the exit I found the metro doors closed and people handing out masks and lemon juice. Being an old-hand at tear-gas now I knew exactly what to do which was to NOT hang around the square booing the canister-firing police. So I headed home  only to find my whole street  laced with gas as well.

And laced it has been for the whole afternoon.

I came out for a while only to sit with Three-Paw because  I was worried about what I should do with him. I really wish I had my own apartment as my flatmate is not as feline friendly as I. Fortunately when the street got really bad the Syrian lady who runs a cafe further down the street took Three-Paw and another crippled dog into her room and shut the doors. I would have taken Three-Paw home if she hadn't taken him. I would never have left him out there in the gas and the banging and the noise.
But you know what -  I really don't like sitting in my bedroom on a hot afternoon having my nose and ears streaming because the streets are filled with tear gas. I really don't. And for what? Because a park is going to be closed. I really cannot understand how a peaceful protest to save trees and a green space in an overly-polluted city can turn into such a vile concoction of gas and violence and fear.