Violinist, Liberty Square, Budapest

The pattern is the same each evening: First people gather at the appointed time,join hands and walk around the half-completed, steadily-rising monument to the German Occupation of Hungary. Behind them, a line of blue-uniformed, maroon-capped sturdy young policemen. The officiers stand five yards apart, their backs almost touching the white tarpaulin cover. The protesters' white van blares out the the national anthem, a concerto or some other beautiful and unifying melody. The atmosphere is unsettling, edgy, a tune played in the wrong key: It's a mixture of anger, hopelessness, sadness and of course the memory of horrors committed in this city in the latter years of the war. Yet there is humour too: The policemen have got used to the routine and these days they look far more relaxed - since the protesters face charges if they continue damaging the site the apparent passing of any real danger has made life easier for the young policemen).
This evening a man climbed onto the stage and played a haunting lied on his violin. It was very moving. Applause, a modest smile and he was off and away down a sidestreet towards Bajcsy-Zalinski út. The name of that street is significant too for Endre Bajcsy Zalinski was a Hungarian politician and editor of note during the war. He advocated resisting the German push for lebensraum and was one of the organisers of anti-Nazi marches. He was excuted by hanging the day before Christmas Eve, 1944.