Snow was traded for humidity as I descended upon a city in turmoil. Warnings echoed as I settled in a small house next to the protesters. In the morning, as I walk for work past the army headquarters to the UN building 500 meters away, the protesters and I have formed our own little ritual. I smile and they smile and perhaps we are all safe. At night their chanting morph into singing. I listen to the sound of their political devotion and let it guide me in my sleep.