She took to the streets believing she was marching for the soul of the Republic. A hand-painted sign, a student badge, and the burning certainty that solidarity could heal any fracture. ​Then the iron shutters gave way. ​When the plate glass shattered, the chants stopped mattering. She watched people she called comrades storm into storefronts, grabbing sneakers, perfume, and electronics. ​She stood in the doorway, voice cracking over the sirens: “Arrêtez! This isn’t the cause! This isn’t what we’re here for!” ​A shove sent her backward onto the pavement. ​A laugh cut through the smoke: “Shut up. We’ve got urgent shopping to do.” ​In that single second, a lifetime of ideology collided with cold reality. She wasn’t marching with people fighting for a future. She was acting as human cover for people who just wanted to burn down the present. ​The sign slipped from her hands into the glass-strewn gutter. ​Idealism built the march. Opportunism tore it apart. ​When will we finally see the difference?