Koo Sze-yiu

My dear Koo Sze-yiu, my uncle, my friend, my hero. We lost you on that April morning, 2026, but the fire you carried in your heart, the fierce love for Hong Kong that burned so brightly, it refuses to be extinguished. You were "Long Beard," a name that became synonymous with unwavering principle and incredible courage in our city. Your activism wasn't just a job; it was the very essence of who you were, a deep, abiding love poured out into the streets. I remember watching you, that long, wise beard framing your face, as you carried that handmade coffin through the protests. It wasn't just a symbol; it was a powerful, heartbreaking testament to what you feared losing – the freedom, the spirit of Hong Kong. And then, the flags. Burning them wasn't destruction; it was a desperate, passionate plea for change, a cry from a heart that ached for a better future. You faced imprisonment twelve times, twelve times you chose principle over comfort, your voice echoing in the courtrooms long after the doors slammed shut. That resilience, that sheer determination, it was awe-inspiring. You didn't just protest; you embodied the fight for what you believed was right, with a quiet dignity that commanded respect, even from those who disagreed. But beneath the activist, beneath the "Long Beard," was