The occupation of City Hall in New York during the mass wave of protests that swept across America last summer in the wake of the wanton slaughtering of George Floyd felt historic. A legacy of Occupy Wall Street with a more millennial tinge. Activist cyclists circled the perimeter and protesters climbed statues covered in orange gaffer tape reading "no justice, no peace" etc. A drove of Davids to the system's Goliath. The streets, theirs. The monuments, theirs. Everything, it seemed, was for the taking and as such, the square became a microcosm of society writ large with all of its upsets and pleasures, strengths and foibles. There was sweet collective groaning and gyrating as though the beginning of the world, or the end, or both, had finally arrived. But so too was there jeering and dissent, stillness and restoration. The whole gamut of human emotion. And what the media thought was a flare gun in the night became an entity with legs as robust, bold, and unflagging as it was variable and unpredictable. #HarperCollins