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At Union Square, a woman had set up a maypole with streamers, each bearing a different injustice, "so we can weave our grievances together," she said. The park and its surroundings flooded with marchers and protesters; a rally was already underway on the south end. Unlike Bryant Park an hour ago—whose great lawn was closed off, separating the protesters into clumps, east and west—Union Square was packed: every bench claimed, every railing and curb sat upon, every pathway active, every open space occupied. A constant crush of people passed.
The energy in the air gave it a sense of Zuccotti redux: a cluster of drummers on one end, a peppering of leafletters, artists making art, students chatting, musicians jamming, transients resting in the shade; I saw dogs, hand-rolled cigarettes, an empty bottle of wine, and masses of angry, peaceful, and energized peoples. They were all here, at least for now, as the cool and rainy morning gave way to a sunny spring afternoon. As one marcher had said in front of Lord & Taylor, "occupy is back!"