"Never in my life have I imagined that so many of these people whom I love, at this very moment that I am writing this essay, already over 100 men and women, wish to cover their bodies with gasoline, drink gasoline, and calmly walk down to the grasslands, or along small village paths, or to the gates of the local government building, or to the town roads, or to the gate of a temple, and on this land and under this sky that once belonged to them, set themselves on fire, to cry out in their language, and to die on this land and under this sky that was ripped away from them."