Protest in Rennes: Marko’s Day Seen from Place Sainte-Anne
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Morning — Ring road blockade, first slogans
My name is Marko and this September 10, 2025 begins early, on Rennes’ ring road.
We block the lanes, smoke flares paint the sky. Horns complain, but I feel the city waking up with us.
Under a bridge, the striking image: a bus in flames. The shell crackles, smoke burns itself into my memory.
I pull my “Place Sainte-Anne” T-shirt tighter — black, simple, but for me it’s a flag.
Free verse
Asphalt vibrating,
eyes reddened by dawn,
our steps press pause on the day.
Late morning — Place de la République, the crowd takes shape
We drift toward Place de la République in Rennes.
The crowd swells, banners unfold like sails. I chant, I laugh, I film, I share.
My Place Sainte-Anne T-shirt clings to my skin: it’s my ID card for the day, my way of saying I was there.
Afternoon — Place de la Mairie, tide of youth
At Place de la Mairie, we become a tide.
Voices echo against the pale stone of City Hall. We debate, we dream, we brush utopia with our fingertips.
I spot some friends, we embrace, we hold the line.
Free verse
Cobblestones remembering,
our voices cling to balconies,
the future answers in echo.
Evening — Place Sainte-Anne, breaking point
By late afternoon, Place Sainte-Anne becomes the center of gravity.
The riot police line up, tear gas scratches our throats. We run, we return, we raise our arms.
Here, I usually hang out, I know the corners. Tonight, Place Sainte-Anne in Rennes is an electric stage where every meter counts.
A few steps away — Rue de la Soif, breathing differently
The tension eases a little along Rue de la Soif in Rennes.
Glasses clink, laughter cracks the night. We debrief on the terrace, slogans still stuck to our lips.
I keep my Sainte-Anne T-shirt — soaked, scarred, a witness.
Free verse
Between embers and foam,
we learn to speak again,
to start over.
What I keep — Three squares, one living city
From the ring road to République, from Mairie to Sainte-Anne, Rennes pulsed to the rhythm of our steps.
It’s not just a protest: it’s a language.
Tomorrow, we’ll go back to class, to work, to our lives… but tonight, I am Marko, and I know why I walked.