From that balcony we had a stunning view sweeping down the hillside. We could see at least a hundred balconies from this vantage point, and people emerging onto them to hit saucepans with wooden spoons: a kind of kitchenware orchestra. It was a remarkable spectacle. Simple, effective, lo-fi dissent. A Mexican Saucepan Wave. In the flat diagonally underneath Ada’s, a small girl of no more than five came outside armed with a spatula. Her mother bent over to hold a saucepan at the right height, so she could swipe enthusiastically at it. Occasionally she even hit it. It was utterly adorable.
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