Activism

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Seth leaned back in his chair and stared across the table, eyes twinkling. "Man, that was exhilarating. The passion in that room - the energy - I've never experienced anything like that before in my life."

Francis just sat nodding. "It's wild, isn't it?" he finally said. "To be a part of something bigger than yourself. To love others unconditionally. To be loved unconditionally. I'll tell you, man; it really is all about compassion. Everyone forgets about compassion, but it's the most potent form of cosmic justice in the universe..."

"Totally, man. I feel the same way - the exact same way. Makes me excited for tomorrow. Where are we all meeting again?"

"Down by the sculpture park," Francis answered. "We're going to rally there and march up South Street."

"South Street?" Seth repeated, feigning surprise. "That's going to cause some seriously shitty traffic delays."

Francis shrugged. "Maybe so. But that's the only way to bring awareness to the cause. If you're not in their face, then they just won't care."

"It's just hard to believe sometimes," Seth murmured, shaking his head. "How so many people can go through life without ever once recognizing their privilege."

The volume in the room picked up, so Francis had to lean in a little closer. "Honestly, dude - it's repulsive. I mean, all you have to do is open your eyes for one second. The injustice, the oppression, the inequity, the abuse...it's all around us. But that's why the work we're doing is so impor-"

The waiter cut Francis off mid-sentence. "Excuse me, gentlemen. Would either of you like another mimosa?"

Seth looked up and nodded politely. "Yes, that would be great, thanks. And maybe just a tad more crème fraiche when you have the chance. The blinis are a little dry without it."