We had Church here: on the steps of City Hall, waiting for answers they were reluctant to give Power in silence over voice. Communion in holding hands; our flesh raw from molten candle wax; a chain unbroken. We had been taught from infancy that with pain comes purpose - comfort too, but prayer could rarely provide this once our children began to disappear. Our actions were fearful but emboldened, understanding in those first days that this had to happen now: our presence; a physical mass of our discontent. That as elders and mothers to these children, it was our duty to organise, to bring the candles and the people; to stand on those steps whilst they sweated inside City Hall and formulated their response. For as long as it took, we would wait. -Chapter 1, Into Great Silence