The crowds started accumulating in the Hong Kong train stations about an hour and a half before the candlelight vigil began. Though I was sweaty and frustrated from a long day at work, the tone of the crowd was humbling and entirely contagious. With each slow step toward Victoria Park, the crowd's energy intensified; everybody was ready to light their candles and pay tribute to those who died in the Tiananmen Square crackdown exactly 20 years ago. 

Upon reaching the long patch of green grass that was the destination for so many of us, I was immediately offered a candle from a large cardboard box boasting hundreds. Though I was among the minority there, unable to speak a word of Cantonese or Mandarin, an elderly Chinese man understood my objective, without the necessity of an animated hand gesture, much less a word.  He held his lit candle to mine and suddenly I was among the thousands honoring the students who lost their lives rallying for democracy in China. 

While the sea of countless candles illuminated the dark park, a Chinese hymn played melodically on the speakerphones, just loud enough for everyone to hear. Those who knew the words sang along, swaying themselves and their lit candles along the way. Though surrounded by a tongue I did not know, I oddly felt at ease at the vigil, knowing all of us were there for the same reason: To support those who stood up for what they wanted, despite its disapproval and deadly consequences. It's probably the most comfortable I've been since landing in Hong Kong.  My life experiences have been much different from the majority of the vigil attendees but that wasn't important here; the sea of pale yellow candles drowned all that out. 

I looked beyond the cloud of candles, directly into the faces of their owners and noticed something fantastic. From the young part-Chinese, part-European girl who stared deeply into the small flame held tightly between her hands to the traditional, old Chinese man who offered me his light earlier that night, now with his eyes closed deep in concentration, the night belonged to anyone who wanted to be a part of it. Each candle represented someone different who believed in a fundamental ideal: Freedom of speech to all who'll listen, even those who don't understand the language.