The storm is a cacophony of pink that flows between slow and stop. In every direction, pointed hats and sharp signs stinging words and biting looks phrases dotted with peaches and comb-overs hardened women fiercer than the surging wind.
I had never imagined feeling so powerful until 50,000 women and men and nonbinary friends engulfed my senses in magenta and bubblegum and lightning struck 100,000 times in the space of two blocks.