A small group of protesters climbed a bus stop shelter covered with stickers and black-marker slogans and posed angrily while their friend snapped a group photo. Another crowd, decked in all-black outfits and masks, sat on a high concrete wall, looking down into a streets that still smelled like aerosol spray paint, watching work crews blast graffiti off buses and buildings.

Behind them, delegates with their families took pictures of the crowds, and politely refused leaflets from representatives of the International Workers of the World.

More police amassed. But the blue circle around the plaza was complete. The newly arrived police formed a line across a street without protesters and for a moment, did not know which way to face. A plain-clothes officer chose North.

As the ominous words, "If Mumia dies, fire in the skies," disappeared in a cloud of steaming water from a concrete wall. But protestors vowed to remain.

"As long as I'm alive, I'll be here," one said.

She was breathing still at 9 o' clock, when the demonstration disbanded.

The thunderstorms didn't come, and protesters drifted back through the dark into the parks and warehouses of Philadelphia.