A silk thread tens of thousands of kilometers in recent weeks has connected the coasts of the Black Sea to the Pacific coast and the trenches of Donbass to the protest canopy of Hong Kong.
“Russia is like China and freedom must be defended everywhere.” John uses tones of the obvious, almost surprised when asked why he decided to join the Foreign Legion and at home angry at what is still happening in his village. Like him, the other Hong Kong citizens were fighting at the front. Dressed in jeans, a wool cap, a military green shirt and a tactical backpack, he arrived at the Polish border in Medica to reach the border and enter Ukraine. Contrary to its size, only almond eyes betray their oriental origin. John is 45 years old and works as a photographer.
“This time I had to leave the cars and lenses at home, I only have what I need inside: some clothes and some rations,” he explains. He is here to fight, convinced that his compatriots have already carried Kalashnikovs against the Russian columns. “And others will have to do it, because in a way it is our cause, it is the same axis of the oppressors.” As he puts his hands on a briefcase, he remembers that “freedom is trampled on by the other twin giant, China, which supports Putin. In Hong Kong, once the place of democracy, there is no longer the right to express one’s opinion: the problem is that it is a significantly smaller place.” Infinite from Ukraine, which is why we forgot about ourselves. ” He remembers the arrests, the suppression of demonstrations, the censorship of the Internet, the disruption of social networks and the prohibition of cinematographic works. Just a few months ago, Chinese security forces forced the closure of the independent newspaper, Stand News, after raiding the newspaper’s editorial rooms, with more than 200 clients, on charges of “seditious publication”.
“Putin is probably less dangerous than the Beijing government: in Moscow it is still possible to write and social networks are still active,” he says. A smoking soldier awaits him on the other side, stretched out in his chair, tired, sheltered from the rain under a muddy tent with the word ‘corps’ black on it, made of mist about to vanish. On the other hand, a new soldier is fast approaching, ready to join a new Ukrainian ‘palyanitsa’. He’s on the cusp of showing his personal autobiography to the Resistance, as so far there’s only been a passive parachute fight against pepper spray and tear gas.
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