History knows a movement by what it carried and what it said. This room keeps the words as they were written — verbatim, in the hand that carried them, with the place they were seen.
Two words on a giant banner, flown from the column of the Bastille — the generation naming itself from the ground where French rising began. Reported across the autumn's coverage; the banner is this movement's signature image.
The words themselves, carried on placards by protesters standing on the Monument of the Republic — photographed and described in photo reportage of this autumn's marches. The court's old cry, answered in the street, in the street's own spelling. This house's name was already on the placards before it was ever on a garment.
Block everything. The call of 2025, and the tactic this autumn rehearsed and then performed: the blockade as the people's veto. Kept here because the lycée students of September 2026 grew up hearing it.
Slowly, and only on evidence. A placard enters this room when it has been photographed or reported by a source this house can name — never from a screenshot alone, never rewritten, never improved. The movement's spelling, spacing, and hand are the artifact. Where the words are French, they stand in French first; translation follows beside them, and the original is never replaced by it.