Roses hurt

Last September, police detained my best friend for a peaceful protest. She spent 15 days in jail, and more than 30 thousand Belarusians shared a similar or worse experience that year.

My friend was a part of the white-red-white crowd that flooded the streets of Minsk and other cities after the presidential election of August 2020. They saw how many of them showed up, and it gave them strength, optimism and voice. Week after week, hundreds of thousands of people showed their thirst for change, their creativity and dignity. The government could not understand and hear this crowd, even if it tried. The police were brutal.

So she went to a cold cage, ate badly, craved a shower. One day an actor from another cell read poetry to lift everyone’s spirits. There were many smart, creative, and brave people there.

My friend had a hard time. Everyone who waited for her and tried to send her food and clothes had it even worse. They all stayed strong and resilient, even so.

I live on another continent and there was little I could do. I cried (it was for me), I wrote her letters, and when she got free, I sent them all in one message (she said she cried reading it).

I went to a rose garden and made some photos, trying to express, manifest, live, and release my feelings. I wanted to see the light for myself, my friend, my people.

She went free without physical injuries, hugged friends and family, and continued to protest.

Today, on March 30th, 2021, there are 322 political prisoners in Belarus. And those feelings, that dull pain — lingered for many, including me. So the roses are staying too.