By the evening it became obvious that the lower parts of the city were off limits. What little resistance the municipal guards and the police offered was lost in the huge swarms of people, rushing past barricades and soaked, empty courtyards, through the alleys and on the boulevards, cutting through the heart of centuries of oppression with a single, deadly strike.
Aenea was by the window, as usual. A couple of elephant statues were keeping her company while she gazed towards the slums. Rain was beginning to trickle down the glass in perfect small drops.
"I guess you were right then. They are fed up."
As always, I could not just sit there and watch, with that ever-present feeling of eternal summer hanging lightly around her shoulders. There was a certain degree of iciness with which she operated, sort of a barrier to keep her distance from all those warm and fuzzy emotions. Yet at the same time the only word that came to my mind every time I looked at her w