“What’s going on?” asks a stranger.
“Anglais? Vas te faire.” A scowl first, then a backside.
In the center, a woman faces them as a block of granite against the sea. She rises and shakes with fury before the black uniforms. Her voice is sharp, filled with some roaring passion.
He lifts his camera. Through the lens he sees not stone but a rose. Against institution stands a heart-achingly beautiful thorn.