About today's photo | By Paloma It's three o'clock in the afternoon and I am in the metro exit. I can't see nor hear them yet. Something inside me has moved. I can feel it. It is as if a smell or an intense boiling inner sensation invisibly touches my skin from the inside out. Maybe it is because I come from a country (Puerto Rico) that took out the US Navy out of Vieques: my body's memory recognizes power. And my eyes, beauty. Kids in the streets, expressing themselves, together, hand in hand. What I see is a collective embrace, the overall feeling is joy. My word: mesmerizing Hey, who do you think you are? We are the future, not you. Your law is not good for us, we deserve something better. They are claiming the future. You can feel it is their first experience of a collective trance. They are taken by the energy: the one that makes you feel everybody as one, the one that gives you the experience of a collective union. I am in the middle of them, with them, taking their pictures -- they are present, always smiling, making real contact -- and while feeling the electric current that runs from my back to my head, I am thinking, this is healing. Youth is healing. A couple of hours before, a baby boomer friend of mine had told me, we are the first generation living the world in a worse state than we got it. It's true. But after this march, what strikes me as even more devastating than this statement, is where does this energy goes once into adulthood?  what happens to us? and who does it? In French the word grève means, strike, and the word rêve, means dream. Rêve Generale, was the claim. I think it says it all.