325, translated from Greca W Ogniu (in Polish): Our shoes are worn out from all the boring peace walks we have joined. Not only have we noticed holes on the shoe soles, but we have also realised that we are stuck in one place and our inner ferocity is now lulled into gentleness. Demonstrations are not a good outlet for our anger, which cannot be satisfied with mere tramping the streets, all under the watchful eye of the police. Thus, we feel forced to seek new paths of action.
This is why, on the 1st of May we went for a walk without informing the authorities. We took with us a few litres of paint and made a resolution that we need to do something for our comrades. We painted windows of two banks located in two different parts of the city. Their owners should know that not every potential visitor will have peaceful intentions and will beg for a loan.
Anarchist News: On the evening of friday 26th of april, cops raided a solidarity party for anarchist prisoners at a squatted warehouse in Clifton Hill. Upon entry the pigs were immediately pelted with bottles and forced to retreat. However backup was called, and shortly after the warehouse was surrounded by riot squad, regular cops, and dogs. The occupants were forced out of the building and on to the street where the cops were attacked a second time with bottles, rocks, and other projectiles while the party goers chanted “A.C.A.B!”
A police radio was stolen and used to taunt and verbally abuse the bastards. The cops responded with baton charges, pepper spray, and mauling people with their dogs. At this point the revellers disappeared into the night to party elsewhere. Many were heard to comment “best party ever!”
As a response to this police attack, and as an act of solidarity with this small rupture and an attempt to broaden its horizons we went to North Fitzroy and smashed up a real estate agent.
We also express our solidarity and warm regards to anarchist Felicity Ryder who is still on the run, and to Jock Palfreeman, antifascist prisoner in Bulgaria.
ContraInfo: Nearly two years ago now, we diffused a text in solidarity with antiauthoritarian comrade Diego Ríos, who has been underground since 2009 (because of the arrest warrant issued against him when his mother reported that he had stored material to manufacture explosives in a house she owned). At that time, we shared some reflections about the particularities of clandestinity for antiauthoritarian and anarchist comrades. A similar effort was made three years ago by comrades who wrote and edited the book Al Acecho (Lying in Wait); it was rooted in Diego Ríos’ case as well, and to us, it was the first text originating in Chile to address themes of clandestinity from an antiauthoritarian perspective based on a specific case. Other texts, such as the book Incógnito and the communiqués from comrade Gabriela Curilem also address anarchist/antiauthoritarian comrades’ experiences of clandestinity, a theme that seems to be infrequently discussed in these parts.
Thus, we have already shared the idea of greeting our fugitive comrades and saluting their decision to struggle and evade prison, one more action against the attempts of Power to capture those who combat it.
A week or so ago Tasmania Police Headquarters, in Hobart, was “re-decorated”.
On the windows and around the building, the following message was sprayed: Cops R Dicks – Love U Flick. Until the last bank, prison & cop r burnt to ashes x x x Con amor y solidarid – A.C.A.B. – F.T.T.P.
This was done in solidarity with our friend and comrade Felicity Ryder as well as our comrade Mario Lopez. Like fire our rage must spread…
via Contrainfo: From deep within the belly of the beast we howl our solidarity with our wild sister & comrade, Felicity Ryder. Love, some comrades.
On a wet and cold night we ventured out with paint cans in our pockets and the fierce desire for a free world in our hearts. On this dark winter’s night, our burning hatred for this mechanized undead system, which seeks our total exploitation from the moment we emerge from out of the womb and into the hospital (our first institution) to the moment of our last breath, lit our way through the streets.