Eight thousand workers toiled for years to build the army of terra-cotta warriors. By order of the Emperor. Who wanted an army to guard him and his treasures in the afterlife. The faces of each warrior are individualistic. Who were the models? The workers themselves. Did those workers know that their corresponding warrior was in essence their tomb? I think so. For many of the warriors were found signed by the workers who made them. A reaching attempt at posterity. For those workers knew. They knew that the location of an emperors tomb must be kept secret. The looters to be frustrated. How to keep a secret? Silence those who built it. When the last warrior was placed a mass death warrant was signed. The bones of 8000 silenced to be found in nearby pits by archaeologists. Buried like the warriors they created. Forgotten but not. For those faces stare on.

The policeman spoke English. Taught in school and self-taught more. His air weighted with sadness. Polite conversation. “Have you traveled outside China?” His look at the ground. “It is not possible. Policemen are not allowed to leave the country. We can’t even get passports. This is just another North Korea. When I graduated from school I took a Government test. The test said I was to be a policeman. My family forced me to do it. I was trapped. Now I must work another 30 years until I can retire. Maybe then I can travel abroad. Maybe then… He seemed near tears. I would’ve hugged him if not for the cameras.

Governments change, as does their method of killing you. These days in China the method just seems a lot slower.

(July 30, 2015)