Violence against largely peaceful protesters is escalating, no matter how much officials downplay the terms they use
There’s no fitting comparison for the sensation of tear gas.
I can tell you that the chemical weapon, banned from use in war efforts, does indeed burn the skin, nose, and eyes – but the burning isn’t simple. It invades all sense of comprehensive thought with a primal and terrifying urgency. Surrounded by gas and the chatter of rubber bullet guns, and the ominous thrum of officers beating their riot shields with batons, the burning becomes more like a vice grip around your throat. It feels possible you may die there on the pavement in a cloud of smoke, possible you may call out for your mother, or more likely: “Milk! Milk, please!”
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