After the autumn wind had blown itself out, the last withered leaves fell in a scattered mess, crushed to powder beneath countless feet.
On the street, a sparse crowd gathered on the lawn before City Hall, holding signs and staring up at the building beyond the fence.
There were men and women, young and old alike. What they shared was their disheveled appearance and shabby clothing, like a group of vagrants.
Whenever vehicles entered or left, they crowded closer, waving their signs and shouting with all their strength:
"We want jobs! We want to live!"
Unfortunately, separated by high walls and iron fencing, no one could hear them clearly.
The vehicles continued to come and go as usual.
Only the guards coldly watched every protester who dared approach, weighing the batons in their hands in silent threat.
When the icy drizzle of early winter descended from the sky, the thinly clad crowd could no longer endure the freezing wind and temperature. They scattered in miserable disarray.
Only a handful remained, continuing to repeat their cries.
Yet no one listened.
In the end, even their hoarse, desperate shouts were drowned out by deafening cheers from afar.
On the broad avenue beyond the next intersection, a surging crowd waved flags of all sizes. Tens of thousands had painted their faces in every color, slowly advancing under the leadership at the front.
News helicopters lowered their altitude overhead, filming the entire process from above.
"Oppose discrimination! Protest gender-based disparities!"
"Support sexual minorities! Oppose workplace harassment!"
"Being transgender is not a crime!"
"We demand respect! We demand understanding!!!"
The heartfelt cries and shouts nearly moved the reporter at the front of the march to tears. Facing the camera connected to the live broadcast, the reporter passionately described the suffering and long-standing injustice endured by