Feilong16

    The chains wring the ground. The sun beats down like an unwavering bludgeon. The prisoners in single file follow orderly steps, all with the same look, not the look that one would expect from those whose lives have been made to serve in relentless conditions, but that of men who are uncertain of their goals and what they stand for. They march on heads down avoiding the engagement of their peers, their sisters, brothers, children and wives.  The guards keep an invisible line, suppressing any resistance with their muskets trained and their flags flying high above the heads of the people. They watch with a discerning gaze. The last man steps