As protesters are literally pushed by the shields of security officers, under the floating scent of tear gas, US President Donald Trump strides safely to the Episcopal Church of Saint John, located in one of the corners adjacent to the White House.

It is the third day of protests in front of the residence of the President of the United States, and it is just a few minutes before the curfew decreed by the mayor of the country’s capital, Muriel Bowser, to prevent the riots from recurring. and looting from the previous day.

Shortly before, at the end of a televised speech to the nation in which the president promised a heavy hand and “the deployment of thousands and thousands of soldiers” to stem the wave of protests, he announced that he would “pay his respects to a very , special”.

THE BIBLE

Trump arrives at the church surrounded by a retinue of officials and security agents, and under the repetitive sound of helicopters that do not stop flying over downtown Washington.

The Episcopal Church of Saint John has a special symbolism, since all the US presidents have prayed in it. since the XIX century.

Few know Trump’s goal, something that is only revealed at the end of his walk: to take a photo with a Bible in the temple.

Trump meets the goal and poses with a serious face in front of the cameras while holding up the religious book with his right hand, to the amazement of the head of the church, Mariann Budde, who later points out to the Washington Post newspaper her “indignation “

“I am puzzled. We need moral leadership and the president has done everything to divide us and has just used one of the holiest symbols in the Judeo-Christian tradition,” explains Budde, who spent the day handing out bottles of water to protesters and calling for protest. peaceful.

On the other side, protesters recoil at the din of rubber ball launches into the air and police charges.

After a few confusing moments of racing, and cries crossed, the front line of the security agents is installed a hundred meters ahead.

THE STONE

Strategically located among the flowers of a garden, and with no works nearby, a cobblestone attracted attention.

In one of the new charges, more intimidating than dangerous, one of the protesters, covered with a handkerchief and a mask, kneels to grab him.

Intuiting the companion’s intention, another of the protesters, equally masked, snatches the projectile from him and secretly drops it onto the asphalt.

The first tries to get it back. Unsuccessfully. Another of the protesters has thrown him into a sewer, and tries to get him in and get rid of the cobblestone at once.

But it’s too big, a solid rectangle, and despite kicking it in, the cobblestone refuses to disappear.

The police line is barely ten meters away, equipped with their helmets and protective armor. Some carry shotguns to fire rubber bullets.

“You are the threat,” protesters shout at them, hands up.

The cobblestone stays in the same place, and the security line leaves it behind without paying attention.

Tomorrow both sides will return to the starting box.

The cobblestone will not move until then.

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