Last Sunday I was at the Tamar government center in Hong Kong. Like the majority of the gathered crowd I went not to cause a disturbance but to express my displeasure at the way the authorities were handling the student protests. I even stood on the side among others who had obviously come to observe but the police fired a tear gas canister in my direction. It was unprovoked. The crowd did not push the police. There was no threat. That day my eyes were blinded by pain and tears, and my lungs seemed to burn. But far worse was the pain I felt inside. Four days later, as I write this, my heart continue to shed tears for the loss of an innocence that had once defined my home.