A man with a bike stops right next to me. He asks where I come from. I tell him. I am not from here. So he tells me a story.

It sounds like straight out of a cold war novel, and in a way it is. It is a story about people secretly meeting in a church, making tapes and smuggling them into another country to spread their gospel via radio and television, back across the border. It is a story of a time when travelling was a privilege.

He points in this general direction …

… and tells me that here is the place that moved the masses …

… to blow away the old …

… and free the market.

I see the stages …

… of transformation.

People went to the streets …

… and a Wall came down. Well, some walls seem to be here to stay.

I wonder about the reality behind events that start small, with only a few witnesses around; the power of singular moments that trigger avalanches that change the world and turn into legends told from generation to generation, long after the living memory is gone.