Suddenly, they came storming out. They were about ten or fifteen. Black clothes and balaclavas. They had a fire extinguisher, a ladder and some tires on them. And gasoline. The great final act of the sad drama of the fall of Ubica was unfolding.
Up to about eleven o’clock the tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. Nobody knew what was going to happen, except three nervous nail biters on the terrace of a café on the Ganzenmarkt, the square on which the Ubica is situated, the place that offered the best view of the spectacle that is the Ubica eviction, last Friday. It seemed like such an ordinary Friday night for the beer drinkers on the Ganzenmarkt. Another workweek gone by, another night consumed away. Nothing’s out of the ordinary, tomorrow is day like any other. But those three visitors knew better. They had heard that the squatters would not just give up their autonomous space after 21 years. “Not without a fight“, was announced on Indymedia. But of course no time was specified so it came down to nail biting and suspenseful waiting. One thing was certain: in a little while the town hall would receive a make-over. [Read More]
