Beijing

There are two places to be when there's a row of burning trucks blocking your main city road: in front of the barricade or behind it. The men in front always are armed. The ones behind set their only protection alight. For these men their spirit is pulsing tense, a boxer dancing in the ring. The only surprise is not that they are mowed down, but that the brilliance shining through their ribs does not take the shape of wings.