A revolution always seems, in retrospect, like an eruption: a massive upheaval that overturns everything, flips the tables, shatters the sky, fractures the earth. No one talks about how long a revolution takes or how boring it can be, how it can slowly chew time with grinding teeth before gulping it down all at once. It consumed their lives for years – the supposed time of their lives, their early twenties – and in the end, it swallowed one whole.
