We’re killing some time walking along the river before a concert. A woman shakes up a can of spray paint as we walk by, but I’ve seen a lot of people being sketchy in various ways in this park, so I’m neither moved or surprised.
As we’re walking back toward the concert venue, the can-shaker and a couple of friends are walking in the opposite direction wearing aggressively normal faces—three people trying to act super super normal. I make some small joke about how that’s fine by me, but wait, let’s see what they wrote first.
A new, hastily painted symbol of flag inside a circle is on the sidewalk near a bench.
I furrow my brow slightly, jokes put aside for a moment. “I think that’s antifa.”
“Isn’t that three arrows?”
Suddenly, I’m not sure.
We keep walking.