A Polish Memorial of the Tiananmen Massacre
By Volaris
HRIC thanks our guest contributor and author of this article, Volaris. Please scroll down for the Chinese version / 后附中文版。
Wrocław, Poland. Upon first hearing the name, many Chinese people’s first reaction would be “where?” It is an obscure name that most Chinese would not know. Yet, it is in this city where I unexpectedly encountered a piece of memory about the June 4th Tiananmen massacre. It is the physical embodiment of this memory in the form of a memorial, as well as the tribute paid by local residents over the last few decades, which has bound Wrocław tightly to the past and present of the Chinese people. Today, when all traces of that massacre have been suppressed in the Chinese people’s memory, a piece of such memory has somehow been preserved in a city of which few Chinese have ever heard. Behind this encounter, which transcends both temporal and geographical boundaries, is a touching story about solidarity and freedom, which I will share with you in my writing.
When a Polish friend first told me about the presence of a June 4th Tiananmen memorial in Wrocław, I was shocked but also felt a little perplexed. The location seemed rather random compared to, say, Warsaw, the capital, or Gdansk, the birthplace of the Solidarity movement which eventually brought down the Communist regime. So, I decided to personally travel there and find out. Upon arrival, I went to the address provided by my friend, and after some searching, I finally located the memorial in the middle of a small grass field behind a thicket of bushes, next to a pedestrian crossing near the Galeria Dominikańska mall.
The major component of the art piece was a white bicycle. It lay sideways on the cobblestone ground as if deserted. The middle section was bent and pressed into the surface below, as if a heavy force was crushing the bicycle from above. Time has certainly left its mark on this art piece. As rust has taken over the metal of the bicycle’s frame, many parts are barely recognizable. At the lower edge of the memorial, there is a plaque with three lines: “Tiananmen”, “Pekin – Wrocław”, “1989/6/4 – 1999/6/4”. Upon seeing the memorial, I was left with more questions than answers. Why was it built in the first place? What was the symbolism behind its design? What was the significance of the date 1999/6/4? My curiosity was rewarded by a stroke of luck. During my short stay in Wrocław, I was able to meet the artist behind the memorial, Mr. Marek Stanielewicz, and hear the stories leading to its creation.
On a rainy afternoon, my Polish friend and I met Mr. Stanielewicz at his studio. He had a long, thick beard covering the bottom half of his face. Under his wide brow, a pair of deep, dark eyes emitted a strong sense of resolution and wisdom. Wisps of blue smoke occasionally rose from the end of his pipe as we spoke. After some greetings, Mr. Stanielewicz broke the ice and began telling us about the stories behind this commemorative piece. It was as if I were in a time machine; suddenly, my thoughts were pulled back almost forty years to that tumultuous and eventful spring of 1989.
The story of the June 4th Tiananmen memorial in Wrocław is, in some sense, a tale of two versions of June 4th, 1989: one of Poland, and one of China. One may wonder and lament how satirical history can be. For the Poles, that exact date is commemorated as the day of liberation from an autocratic regime, as the country held its first free, democratic election since the end of World War II. Yet, to the Chinese people who yearned for freedom throughout the 1980s, June 4th, 1989, was the day hope finally forsook them as tanks rolled down the streets of the capital. As the Poles were celebrating the landslide victory of Solidarity, Chinese mothers were mourning the deaths of their children, brutally shot down by another autocratic regime that cared more about its own survival than the demands of its people.
As Mr. Stanielewicz recalled, the news of the massacre in Beijing reached Wrocław two days later, and shortly thereafter local activists decided to respond by showing solidarity with the Chinese. Young artists in Wrocław, who did not yet have enough time to rejoice in their nation’s own triumph against totalitarianism, soon devoted themselves to another fight—only this time, it was for someone else’s cause. They erected a memorial honoring those Chinese who fell during the regime’s bloody crackdown. That original memorial had a pair of tractor treads surrounding a fallen bicycle, with the treads representing the tanks crushing the students, who were embodied by the bicycle itself. This memorial was built on the ground where the Galeria Dominikańska mall stands today. Mr. Stanielewicz was very proud to tell me his belief that this original installation was the first memorial in the world ever built to commemorate the Chinese victims of June 4th.
Unfortunately, that piece was short-lived. Despite the fact that the incumbent United Workers’ Party suffered a humiliating defeat, its grasp on power was not yet fully gone in the immediate aftermath of the election. A few days after the first memorial’s completion, the local authority ordered its removal, and in the coming years, the shopping mall was built over the site. Today, the memorial we see is the second iteration, designed by Mr. Stanielewicz and built in 1999 near the location of the original piece to honor its history and symbolize continuity.
At this point, you may rightfully wonder why solidarity mattered so much to the residents of Wrocław. Why would they build a memorial for the Chinese victims not once, but twice? Through my own research and discussions with Marek, I was able to piece together the puzzle. A large part of the answer lies in the fact that the spirit of solidarity and freedom runs deep in the veins of Wrocław’s residents.
Few Chinese might know that Wrocław did not officially become part of modern-day Poland until 1945. Most of its residents were descendants of those who migrated from other places after the city was handed over to Poland by the Allies. From 1945 to 1989, these new residents, with little prior connection to each other or the land, had to endure the suppression of the newly installed totalitarian regime. Scholar Gregor Thum wrote a book about Wrocław’s postwar history titled Uprooted, a word that accurately captures the tension and weight of such a process. For those who arrived in Wrocław, the formation of the city’s new collective identity was intertwined with collective resistance. Solidarity became not only necessary for survival but a crucial spiritual anchor for those seeking a communal bond in their new home.
Over time, solidarity metamorphosed into a proactive fight for freedom. For example, the influential Orange Alternative (Polish: Pomarańczowa Alternatywa) movement started in Wrocław in the 1980s under the initiative of Waldemar Fydrych. Activists employed graffiti and performance art featuring characters of dwarves wearing orange hats in comical ways. They would paint these figures next to regime propaganda posters or dress up as dwarves in public. The young art activists were fully aware of the risks, yet they were not deterred. Orange Alternative soon spread to other parts of Poland, becoming a symbol of the resistance subculture through which people could push the boundaries of free expression.
As Marek proudly declared, across generations in Wrocław, no one believed that one should “only sweep before their own door.” Instead, the locals cared about struggles against autocracy anywhere in the world. I believe it was this cosmopolitan attitude that drove those young activists to build the original memorial in 1989. The history of Wrocław has made its residents aware that the fight for oneself and support for others seeking political liberation are inseparable. This notion was the source of solidarity through the dark times before 1989 and the motivation to react when news of the massacre broke out.
After the dismantlement of the original piece, Marek, an active participant in the local Solidarity movement, devoted himself to its reconstruction. He shared that the first memorial had emerged as a constituting part of the city’s collective memory. To preserve that moment, Marek worked with a fellow activist to convince the local government to build a second memorial. The design retained the iconic bicycle, a form Marek noted has always been associated with Chinese culture in the minds of Poles. He even went to a flea market with his wife to find a bicycle that was actually made in China. At the opening ceremony in 1999, local residents brought candles and flowers. Marek told me the most touching moment was when a stranger left a note that read: “Freedom is never bestowed; it is obtained through incessant fighting.” Marek told me this line was the best representation of his motivation. He intentionally avoided official channels for the 1999 unveiling to ensure the message remained untainted by politics, emphasizing a grassroots spirit.
Mr. Stanielewicz told us with excitement that he believes many have seen the second installation. Every anniversary since 1999, many locals have come to pay tribute with flowers, candles, or notes. Year after year, people in Wrocław gather to commemorate June 4th. Sometimes, when the tributes become overwhelming, Marek visits the site himself to clean and organize the offerings.
I asked him if he knew of any Chinese people who had visited this specific site. Marek recalled hosting an art professor from Hunan years ago. He noted the professor’s reaction was restrained, yet he could discern a flicker of profound emotion in the man’s subtle facial expressions. Marek told me that, having grown up under a totalitarian system himself, he understood this reservation perfectly. Sometimes, the mask of caution gives way to open dialogue; Chinese visitors often find him online and reach out privately. While Marek remains careful when discussing these topics with official visiting delegations at the art school where he teaches, he remains committed to keeping the spark of memory alive. As I listened, I realized that as long as international friends like Marek preserve these “embers” of history, the memory of June 4th can never be fully extinguished. Like Poland in 1989, these sparks may one day ignite a fire strong enough to break the shackles of dictatorship.
Despite the inevitable decay of the second memorial due to its open-air location, Marek shared that a third iteration is already in development. Recently, the head of the Wrocław Depot History Centre reached out to him, emphasizing that a new memorial was essential for the city’s historical record. This moved me deeply; it signifies that the memory of June 4th has been officially etched into Wrocław’s cultural identity. The new design is slated for a corner within Galeria Dominikańska—the exact location where the first memorial stood in 1989. After thirty-seven years, the memory will finally return to its birthplace. Marek also mentioned that he is drawing inspiration from the work of a Chinese visiting scholar. If this collaboration comes to fruition, it will represent a full circle: a Chinese artist contributing to a Polish city’s decades-long effort to guard a piece of Chinese history.
Near the end of the interview, I asked Mr. Stanielewicz if he had any advice for the younger generation of Chinese people fighting for democracy today. He looked at me firmly, pondered for a bit, and told me in a calm voice that when he was young, he never thought the Communist regime would fall in Poland, nor did he dream he would see the end of the Soviet Empire. Then, he said he was once watching television and saw a Belarusian in Minsk talking to a journalist about their dissatisfaction with the regime. That was the moment he knew the days of the oppressive regime were numbered. I understood what he meant: the fight for democracy comes from expression. When the public is no longer afraid, or even if they are scared but find the courage to speak, the regime’s days are numbered. Silence under totalitarianism may be a tactic for self-preservation, but it also serves as a tacit endorsement of the regime’s legitimacy. The people of Wrocław never stopped expressing themselves. Their expressions were often suppressed, but even these “failed” attempts became part of a resistant memory, inspiring the next effort until a critical tipping point was reached.
The afternoon before my departure from Wrocław, I went back to the memorial. A few days prior, I had placed a bouquet of flowers there. Despite a heavy rainstorm, the card I had attached was still there. Someone had carefully placed small cobblestones on top of it so it wouldn’t blow away. Even as I prepared to leave, this city found new ways to move me. Under the sunlight, my card remained visible. Using a translator app, I had written in Polish: “Even after thirty-six years, China has not stopped its pursuit of freedom.” Beneath it, in Chinese, I added: “For a New China of Freedom and Democracy.”
A few days earlier, after I left my flowers, a local man saw what I was doing. He waved his hands, trying to convey something, then realized I did not speak Polish. He pulled out his phone and typed a message that deeply touched me: he said China is an ancient civilization that has brought much wisdom to the world, and he sincerely prays for China’s future. In that moment, my eyes welled with tears. I grasped the hands of this stranger, nodding in a silent, shared understanding of what it means to hope for a better world.
If there is one thing I learned during my stay in Wrocław, it is that the unfiltered recollection of a nation’s past can become powerful fuel on its journey toward liberation. Safeguarding collective memory from being altered or erased is the most effective weapon against dictatorship. At the same time, the pursuit of freedom is never the sole responsibility of an individual or a small group. No one should stand on the sidelines waiting to be liberated. Freedom is never a gift. Only when every person in society unites can we ensure we will not be divided and conquered. The spirit behind that memorial is one of solidarity. Regardless of distance, culture, or ethnicity, as long as someone shares the belief in freedom, they are our comrades. After all, if we do not support each other, who will be there to fight for us when our own freedom is threatened?
波兰的六四记忆
波兰，弗罗茨瓦夫，中国，北京。乍一听这也许是两个毫无关联的城市。弗罗茨瓦夫，这座坐落于波兰西南部奥得河畔的波兰第四大城市，对于很多中国人而言是一个陌生的名字。然而，就是在这里，我与一段和六四相关的记忆不期而遇。正是这段记忆，和波兰人民对这段历史的珍重，紧紧地将这两个远隔千山万水的城市联系在了一起。当所有和六四相关的物理痕迹在中国这片土地上被抹去，关于这段往事的记忆，却在佛罗茨瓦夫这座让很多中国人意想不到的城市中不断获得新生。
从某种意义上而言，弗罗茨瓦夫是波兰这个民族记忆中的孤儿，因此，记忆对这座城市和她的居民而言，才更加弥足珍贵。在这座1945年以后才正式归属波兰的中欧古城里，迁居而来的波兰人曾经对于这片土地缺乏记忆。而从1945年到1989年，所有关于这座城市的记忆，就生活在那里的波兰人而言，往往是生活在集权体制下的恐惧，挣扎和对于强权的反抗。而就是在这种反抗和对反抗的记忆里，弗罗茨瓦夫波兰人的身份认同被慢慢塑造，而他们对于这座曾经陌生的城市的归属感，也不断的加强。四十年如一日对于集权的反抗，也让这座城市的人民明白，记忆，除了作为构建集体意识的纽带，也是勇气和力量的源泉。而六四，虽然不是弗罗茨瓦夫自己的记忆，但它所代表的反抗独裁、争取自由的信念，却已经深深扎根在了弗罗茨瓦夫人集体意识里。而六四，也就在八九年那个风起云涌的年代，和波兰人不期而遇，走进了属于他们的历史记忆。
在弗罗茨瓦夫老城区的东南角，距离的一个叫做Galeria Dominikańska的商场不远的主干道上，座落着弗罗茨瓦夫的六四纪念碑。说是纪念碑，其实是一个艺术作品。它的主体是一辆从中间被切开的，倒在鹅卵石地砖上的白色自行车。而今，岁月在这座雕塑上留下了肉眼可见的痕迹。今天，斑驳的自行车随着铁锈的侵蚀，其主体已经慢慢变得不可辨识。如果不是特地留意，很多人也许走过都不会注意到这个被灌木包围的纪念碑。位于而纪念碑下方的铭牌上，用波兰语镌刻着，“天安门”，“北京-弗罗茨瓦夫”，“1989/6/4 – 1999/6/4”。这三段小字引起了我的好奇，为何弗罗茨瓦夫和北京被写在了一起？而1999年的6月4日，这个六四十年之后的日期又意味着什么？好奇心驱使我去了解更多属于这个纪念碑背后的故事。几经波折之后，我竟然有幸去探访到了这个保存了六四记忆的艺术品的创作者，Marek Stanielewicz先生，并能在弗罗茨瓦夫期间和他面对面的交流。
一个雨后的下午，我和一个波兰朋友一起去探访了Stanielewicz先生的工作室。他和夫人接待了我们。Stanielewicz先生大约是六十多岁的年纪，留着长长的胡须，宽大的额头下，有着一双目光深邃，充满智慧的眼睛。他言语中透露着坚定和沉稳，口中的烟斗里，不时冒出些许青烟。因为我不懂波兰语，当我问及能否将采访录音以便于我后续整理和写作，他爽快地答应了。通过我波兰朋友的翻译，他告诉我，其实中国驻波兰的使领馆曾经给弗罗茨瓦夫当地的市政府施压，希望能让他取消这个六四纪念碑的计划，而对此他毫不在意。我对他的勇气非常敬佩，因为这往往意味着他的其他艺术创作可能再也不能进入中国市场，或者他与中国同行的合作可能也会受到限制。短暂的寒暄过后，老人家也慢慢地打开了话匣子，他的侃侃而谈一下子将我和我的波兰朋友拉回了八十年代那个充满希望的岁月。
很多中国人也许并不知道，其实弗罗茨瓦夫在整个波兰争取民主自由的运动中起到了很大的作用。独立的表达和对于强权的反抗，一直流淌在这个城市居民的血液中。上世纪八十年代的在波兰影响巨大的橙色运动（英语：Orange Alternative，波兰语: Pomarańczowa Alternatywa）就起源于弗罗茨瓦夫。橙色运动的核心就是通过一些近乎于无厘头的，却又不失可爱的矮人艺术形象，以涂鸦或者行为艺术的方式，去表达自我，去讽刺和解构当时独裁政权所强调的文化和社会的统一性。在青年艺术家Waldemar Fydrych的发起和带领下，这座城市里的艺术工作者和学生纷纷响应，并最终将这个运动扩大到波兰其他城市，使其成为波兰在一党专政下，年轻人反抗亚文化的一个象征。而Stanielewicz老先生本人，当年也和参与橙色运动中的很多艺术家们是挚友。他自己也是波兰团结工会在弗罗茨瓦夫的一个积极分子。
而历史的某种机缘巧合，在1989年6月4日当天，将波兰人民和中国人民，以一种近乎讽刺却又充满悲剧的方式，联系在了一起。正是在无数包括Stanielewicz老先生在内的波兰人的努力下，6月4日那天，这个被极权政权统治了超过了四十个年头的国度，迎来了第一次民主选举。而正当人们沉浸在团结工会的大胜，独裁政权即将瓦解的喜悦中，六四镇压惨剧的新闻传到了波兰，传到了弗罗茨瓦夫。老先生回忆到，很多参与了民主斗争的年轻艺术家们，很快决定要有所动作。于是六四发生后仅仅两天，一些他认识的朋友们就立起了第一个六四纪念碑。在老人家的回忆中，它的主体是由两排履带组成，而这个含义也是不言而喻的，代表了坦克对于抗议学生的镇压。据老人家讲，这个纪念碑他本人没有直接参与，而我们今天看到的，由他设计的纪念碑，其实是第二代的六四纪念碑了。老人家告诉我们，当年的老纪念碑是全球第一个实体的关于六四的纪念碑。
老人家和我们说，弗罗茨瓦夫之所以和波兰其他城市有所不同，就是因为在弗罗茨瓦夫人的心中，代代相传的抗争精神让年轻人从来就不认同什么自扫门前雪是正确的态度。他们不仅仅关心波兰，也关心世界上其他地区和人民争取民主的斗争。正是这种四海皆兄弟的态度，让那些艺术家们毫不犹豫的对六四去发声。彼时彼刻，在那些艺术家的心里，他们一定不会认为自己国家在89年的成功就代表他们可以置身事外。在弗罗茨瓦夫这座一个从记忆一开始就生活于独裁阴影下的城市，人们更加理解那种对于剥夺自身自由的抗争，和对于他人抗争的支持，以及保存一个群体去进行抗争的记忆，是不可分割，彼此成就的。这也是他们在漫长黑暗岁月中能互相支持，砥砺前行的动力。而自由，恰恰又是不分种族，不分国度的。因此，在六四发生的那一刻，弗罗茨瓦夫人民和北京人民，乃至中国人民的记忆，也就注定要融为一体。
然而这种发声，在当时来看也并不是没有代价的。由于老的纪念碑代表了对于自由民主的追求，在它完成的几天后，还未被民选议会完全取代的旧政府就非常不满，并且通过民兵把它捣毁了。镇压的威胁，仍然悬在波兰人头上。而艺术家们则在政府行动之前，拍下了照片，发给了全世界的媒体，以期能在全波兰乃至全世界范围去唤起民众对于六四被镇压学生的声援和对于暴政的反抗。他们在纪念物附近点燃了蜡烛，摆放了鲜花，并日夜守护。在那一刻，他们守护的，不仅仅是纪念碑，也是自由，也是道义，也是他们对于中国人民的情感表达。在今天新的纪念碑附近，一个由弗洛瓦茨夫市政府树立的信息牌上，还能看到一张当年老的纪念物以及几位参加抗议的学生的照片。
在那个纪念碑被毁坏后，Staneielwicz先生就一直致力于六四纪念碑的重建。从他的谈话中，我可以看出他认为一个纪念碑不仅代表了一个重要的历史时刻，也是弗罗茨瓦夫这座城市集体记忆的一部分。在随后的几年后，他和一位当年参与波兰民主运动的记者朋友去联系了市政府，并最终获得了市长的批准。市政府也赋予了他完全的创作自由，可以不受限制地选择他的设计方案。然而，非常不凑巧的是，那个非常有历史意义的，第一个纪念碑所在的位置当时已经变成了Dominikańska商场的用地。于是，老先生决定在附近的一条主干道和有轨电车线路交汇的地方，来放置这个新的纪念碑。按照老先生本人的说法，在这个交通繁忙的地方，他希望能有很多来来往往的人看到它。
在采访中，老人也强调，他本人当时希望关于这个六四的新纪念碑，无论是建设和后续的宣传，都应该尽可能得去淡化来自市政府的影响，而去应该突出一种来自于公民社会的自发性。能看得出，对于波兰人而言，在后独裁时代，官方的过度参与甚至是背书，都会难免让人联系到某种自上而下的权威，而这种氛围和这个纪念碑所蕴含的自由精神是相悖的。采访中老人也透露，在政府的协调下，新纪念碑的石头地面是市政公司帮忙铺设的，但除此之外，他自己，还有他的妻子，还有他当时只有六七岁大的儿子，也都挽起袖子一起参与到了纪念碑的建造中。那个刻有“北京-弗罗茨瓦夫”的铜质金属铭牌，也是他请了一位好朋友，一位在民主运动年代曾在当地艺术学院担任独立学生会主席的艺术家去制作的。这种近乎于草根的氛围，在老人家看来恰恰是这个纪念碑的核心精神。
而至于这个纪念碑的主体，自行车，老人家也如数家珍地向我们介绍了他当年的设计。他说选择自行车，是因为在他心中和很多波兰人心中，自行车是中国人民的象征。为此，他还特地和他的夫人去了旧货市场，并找到了一辆真正来自中国的自行车。而将自行车切开，并固定在不平整的鹅卵石头表面上，也是象征着一辆坦克开压过广场的路面，从自行车上碾压而过。老人还说到，他想天安门广场的地面，一定不是用鹅卵石铺成的，但是建筑物所用的鹅卵石，却是弗罗茨瓦夫街区地面上所常见的。这样一来，北京和弗罗茨瓦夫，也就通过一辆来自中国的自行车和来自当地的鹅卵石联系在了一起。虽然老人家没有在采访中提及，但是我本人的遐想告诉我，用代表弗罗茨瓦夫的鹅卵石所铺就的地面，也许恰恰象征着，弗罗茨瓦夫人民愿意去分担那来自坦克和极权体制的重压。正是他们，在用他们的身躯去托起那辆象征着中国人民的自行车。正是他们，在分担着命运对中华民族的不公。包括Stanielewicz老先生在那些的艺术家们的举动，让我认识到弗洛瓦茨夫人民对于六四悲剧的感同身受，也让我感动于他们对于我们民族记忆的守护。
在第二个纪念碑揭幕的时候，老人家有意避开官方的宣传，而是通过他自己的人脉，和社会影响，邀请到了很多活跃在艺术圈和社会运动圈的朋友一同见证那个时刻。尽管老人家有些记不清具体年份和日期了，但我想这就是碑文上1999年6月4日的来源。老人家告诉我，揭幕的那一天，很多波兰人自发地聚集，并带来了鲜花和蜡烛。然而，最让他触动的一个场景，是一位陌生人在一张纸片上写下了如下的文字，并放在了纪念碑前：“自由从来不是被施舍的，要争取自由就要通过不停的抗争。“老人家说，这句话虽然不是来自于他，但恰恰是对他设计这个纪念碑背后源动力的最好表达。对于自由的不懈奋斗，正是他最希望通过这座六四纪念碑所传达的。
老人家也高兴地告诉我们，他相信很多人看到了。他提到，自从第二个纪念碑完成后，每年六四周年，都有很多人自发地在那一天来到纪念碑前，通过不同的方式去表达自己的情感。有的是鲜花，有的是蜡烛，也有人的会写下一段话，年年如此。而来参访的人也并不一定是中国人，老先生说，在波兰还是有很多波兰人自发组织去参与纪念六四的活动。而有些年份，当人们留下的东西太多时，老人还会自己去打扫和整理。
当他说到这一段时，我很好奇，便通过我的波兰朋友问他，他是否知道有中国人专门来参观过这个纪念碑。老人回忆到，他曾经带一位来自湖南的艺术教授看过这个纪念碑，那位教授的反应比较克制，并没说什么，但老先生还是从他的面部细微表情中看到了一丝动容。老人家告诉我，作为同样成长于一个极权体制下的波兰人，他完全能理解这种反应。而有的时候，这种对于情感的掩饰也会变成开诚布公的交流。当有一些来波兰中国人从网上得知他是这个纪念碑的设计者，他们也会主动联系他。如今他在当地的艺术学校任教，因此有的时候也会接触到来自中国的访问团。对于来自中国的访客，他在和六四相关的话题上也都会比较谨慎。当他在讲述这些故事的时候，我内心在想，其实关于六四记忆的火种，不论此刻显得多么弱小，但它通过像Stanielewicz老先生这样的国际友人能被保存和传承下去。而其他许许多多的像这个纪念碑一样的六四纪念物，只要在这个世界上存在一天，那么关于六四的记忆就不可能被彻底抹去。而这一点记忆的星火，在中国的未来的某个时刻，就有可能像1989年的波兰，蜕变成熊熊燃烧的，烧毁独裁制度枷锁的烈焰。
老人家同时也兴奋地告诉我，虽然说老纪念碑随着时间的流逝和风吹雨打已经不复当年的容貌，但他已经在设计第三代六四纪念碑了。老人家说，就在不久前，长期和他合作的弗罗茨瓦夫历史中心的一位负责人联系到了他。中心认为非常有必要去建立一座新的六四纪念碑，并希望他能负责这个项目。我听到之后很欣慰，因为我想这也意味着，关于六四的记忆和对它的纪念已经被刻进了弗罗茨瓦夫这座城市的历史中，而纪念六四的艺术也自然而然地成为了她文化的一部分。老先生也谈到，他的新设计很快就要完成了，而新纪念碑的地点就选在Dominikańska商场内的一个角落。他说，之所以选择这个位置，正因为这里是1989年当年第一个纪念艺术诞生的地方。而这座城市关于六四的记忆，也在兜兜转转了三十七年之后，终于将回到那个它第一次被塑造的场合。老先生是那多么有心啊！
老先生还说，在他的新设计里面，里面的一些灵感和元素来自于一位在弗罗茨瓦夫当地艺术学院访学的一个中国艺术家的其他作品。因为六四这个话题本身对于中国人的敏感程度，老人家不确定能否争得这位艺术家的同意去使用他的创作，但老人家本身对此仍然非常期待。而对我而言，如果这个合作能够达成，这也将意味着，一位来自中国的艺术家能参与到一个波兰城市为了保留六四记忆所做的努力中。某种程度上，这将不仅仅是我们中国人对六四记忆的再一次诠释，也将是中国人对弗罗茨瓦夫市民几十年来守护我们民族历史之努力的一种回报。
当这次访谈快要结束时，我问了老人家对中国人追求自由民主的斗争有没有什么建议，尤其是当下这个严酷的环境中，我们年轻一代有没有什么可以做的。老先生看了看我，说道，他年轻的时候，也不曾想过有朝一日共产主义在波兰会被推翻，而苏联帝国会解体。然后他出乎意料地用了一句中文成语“水滴石穿”作为鼓励。他说，当年有一次他在电视上看到，一位白俄罗斯人在明斯克街头对着记者采访的镜头公开诉说自己对这个体制的不满，当时他就预感到笼罩整个东欧的红色政权很快就要崩溃了。我明白他的意思，他想说的是，当民众不再对政权的镇压感到畏惧，或者说即使恐惧也变得敢于公开表达自己的想法，而且当这些声音在社会上变得足够大时，那这个独裁政权距离死亡也就不远了。而对于极权统治的噤声，也许有着明哲保身的必要，但却也是对这种统治本身合法性的默认。而波兰人，弗罗茨瓦夫人，他们从来不曾停止表达。表达有时会被镇压，会被忽视，但这些失败的表达也会变成抵抗记忆的一部分，去激励更多人去进行下一次表达，直到最终到达某个临界点。临别时刻，我和波兰朋友对老先生和他的夫人表示感谢，并和他们二位合影留念。
在临离开弗瓦兹洛夫的那个下午，我再次回到了那个纪念碑。就在几天前，我去给那个纪念碑献上了一束鲜花来表达我的敬意。经过一场大雨后，鲜花上我附上的卡片已经被大雨冲到了地面，而我惊异地发现，一个有心人用几块小的鹅卵石压住了卡片，使它不会被风吹走。即使在我即将离开弗罗茨瓦夫时，这座城市仍然在以不同的方式让我感动和充满敬意。阳光照在我的那张卡片上，而上面是我通过翻译软件用波兰语写下的一句短语：“即使已经过去了三十六年，我们中国仍然不曾停下我们追求自由的脚步”。而在下面，我又用中文写下了“为了自由民主的新中国“。几天前，当我献花之后，一个路过的波兰中年男子看到了我的卡片。他比划着双手想对我说些什么，然后在我用英文自我介绍后，他明白我不会说波兰语。于是他掏出手机，通过翻译软件给我输了一段文字。大意是，中国是一个古老的文明，中国人给这个世界带来了很多的智慧，我真心地为中国的未来祈祷。那一霎那，泪水浸润了我的双眼。我握住了这位萍水相逢的波兰人的双手，对他点头致意。
如果说这一次在弗罗茨瓦夫的短暂停留让我明白了什么，或者有什么思考，那就是对于历史的真实记忆可以成为一个民族在追求自由的旅程上最有推动力的燃料。珍视历史，保卫共同的记忆不被消灭和篡改，是对于强权话语权的最有力反抗。同时，追求自由永远不是哪一个独立个体或某一个小团体的责任，而剩下的人都可以坐享其成，或者相信自由可以被施舍。只有当一个群体众志成城一起去追寻自由，并且在自由尚未来临之前互相鼓励，守望相助，那么那些反对自由的势力才不能将我们各个击破。即使远在天涯海角，来自不同的文化，不同的宗教信仰，不同的种族，只要这些人有着一颗追求自由的心，那么他们就值得我们去守护。毕竟如果我们不去守护他们，当有一天他们被消灭，而我们的自由受到威胁时，谁又来守护我们呢？