Nine-to-fivers were heading back from their day jobs and were gawking at what was happening. The former occupiers of Zuccotti Park were being let back into their home of the past two months, and for most, it was unrecognizable. No kitchen, media tent or medical station. No clothing store, sanitation hub or library, either. Just plenty of slate, in-ground lights and trees that haven’t yet lost their golden leaves. And the nearly 75 New York Police Department officers who were gradually letting in a single-file line of occupiers, journalists and protestors to once again move about within the confines of the park.

For the 16 hours before then, the park was barricaded to anyone but police. So protestors reminisced, nostalgic for what they had just hours earlier. They remembered the working groups they participated in, and the variety of food they ate for the past two months, and even why they joined the movement in the first place. But they were also critical. They talked about the infighting that came to portray the movement as weak, and the visible hierarchy that seemed to go against the main principle of decentralization they were founded upon, and even about what they wanted to happen if they were allowed back in.

Word came around 4:45 p.m. that the park would again be theirs, but at a cost. No longer could they pitch a tent or roll out sleeping bags. An officer said every person with a decent-size bag who wanted to get back in would be searched, and those who didn’t comply would be barred entrance. A small consequence, it seemed, to get back what they wanted most. One-by-one on two sides of the park, the barricades were opened and those who wished to reenter and abide by the rules were led through two rows of six police officers and into the vast expanse.

They cheered, took photos, kissed one another and watched as others like them followed their lead. Sixteen hours after they were forced from what they had come to think of as home, they got it back.

- Andrew Katz / The Brooklyn Ink