We sat in a frigid holding cell in the downtown Oakland jail following the night of the 7th. Hunger began to set in as adrenaline faded and we speculated on the charges they would try to put on us. Someone spoke up, and didn’t have to say much to keep moral high:
In 10 years —nah fuck it, in six months— you ain’t gonna remember sitting here right now. All you gonna remember is the night the Town stood up.