Voices echoed through the streets and up the walls of the buildings around him. Although the signs and posters were swaying in random directions, they were all synced as if it was people jumping in a concert. Calls of angry, passionate protesters projected out into the distance. Donny dragged his fingers along his tangled dark brown hair and tilted his head backwards. He took a breath of his joint and let out a big breath of air followed by a relaxing “ahhh”.

“There’s gonna be officers out there today, you better not let them spot you doin’ it bro” but the warnings soon escaped from his memory as everyday tasks flooded into his mind. The asphalt was sticky against the skin of his foot and each step he took, he took with caution. He occasionally looked down to scan for any broken glass left from a typical Friday night on the streets of Melbourne, his circular retro sunglasses slipped towards the end of his nose as he did his occasional scans, so he removed them with annoyance. The rays of the sun rushed towards him, making him flinch and quickly moving behind a sheltering poster. Donny looked up at the poster and read “The climate is changing, why aren’t we?” written in large skinny black text. The sound between marching shoes and the bitumen pulsed through the area.

A flood of voices rushed through the people from the front of the crowd. Donny looked around with caution, sweat dripped from the knots of his dark brown hair. Powerful surges of adrenaline came rushing down his spine. He took the last puff of his joint. He trapped the air in for a while before slowly releasing it. Time began slowing down as it entered his blood stream. The surges weakened. The shouts and cheers slowly made their way to Donny’s ears as he began feeling relaxed. Suddenly the waves of voices came back, hitting him violently. Echoing shouts bounced off walls, piercing sounds of glass breaking and car horns erupted from the front of the crowd. The street became a battlefield. Donny rushed towards the action, as he ran and he scanned the ground. As he approached the corner, the shouts became louder and clearer, surges of adrenaline pulsed through body again, his heart beat inside his body as he observed the corner. The crowd were pushing against the barriers guarding the Parliament house. Donny joined into the commotion as the crowd tried to grab the politicians’ attention. Protesters screamed and shout as if it was the last day they had their voices. As expected, officers soon arrived at the scene and Donny forgot that the smell of marijuana was lingering in the air around him.

“Is that marijuana I can smell on you sir?” as officers began approaching Donny. His brother’s warnings were the only thought running in Donny’s mind, his memory finally came back to him. Slap! Donny fell to the ground. Officers tackled Donny. People around gave a quick scan before resuming to protesting. 

Donny flinched as the hot leather of the seats stung Donny’s thighs even though the cool condensation blasted through the air-conditioning vents. The harsh rays of the sun pierced through the windows and onto the seats. Voices from the radio occupied the police car. The voices repeated some random numbers and a few streets before making the typical static walkie talky sound. Donny sat in the car quietly as the officers chattered outside the car. His throat felt cracked, as if it was the 2006 Melbourne drought. Donny looked at the passionate crowd outside the vehicle as they endured the hot rays and continued shouting. He then looked at the officers to see what they were doing, an officer seemed to stand out from the others, catching Donny’s eyes. Although he was handcuffed in a police car, the marijuana seemed to help him keep his composure. The officer approached the car. Donny looked out of the window and noticed the officer. Donny kept his eyes on the officer before realising who the officer was. “I told you,” the officer said as he chuckled quietly.