People marching, mesmerized, all moving in the same direction, stepping at the same pace.
Corralled by banners and observers that delineate the path the marchers must follow.
Slow progress, allowing the audience to carefully absorb the celebration or the protest of those passing by.
A chant? Perhaps. Starting at the front and rippling across the procession, sometimes overflowing the boundaries and taken on by those watching intently, wanting to belong to the movement in some way.
The colours they wear have been selected specially for the day. Each garment, each symbol, each slogan representing key parts of their message. Multicoloured and multilingual pride in what they stand for. Well, walk for.
The leaders reach the end of the mapped route. Like a river unleashed into the ocean, the line collapses and disperses, spreading people outwards without a concrete sense of finality. Leaving the marchers wondering whether they should go home or circle back and start over again at the beginning.