The instant this monk drops the lighted match, he crosses irrevocably from life to death, from protestor to martyr in the cause against his country’s hatred. Few will understand what would bring a man to that fork in his path, will even begin to comprehend from their self-referential vantage the results of daily acts they’ll excuse but never face. Years and lifetimes later, in a not so different country, too few will take the time to reflect on why a family would risk everything to enter at a moment when their government turns hatred to stone no less palpable for not being physical in form, while fewer will refuse to toss the match on others.