We remember June Fourth because Jiang Jielan was 17 at the time. He is still 17. He will always be 17. People who die do not age.
We remember June Fourth because the lost souls that haunted Liu Xiaobo until he died will haunt us, too, until we do.
We remember June Fourth because the glint of bonfires on bayonets is something one does not forget, even if one did not see it personally.
We remember June Fourth because it taught us the essential nature of the Communist Party of China when all of the clothes, every shred, falls away. No book, film, or museum could be clearer.
We remember June Fourth because of the ordinary workers who died then. We cannot remember most of their names because we do not know most of their names. We never did. But we remember them as people, and we remember that we never knew their names.
We remember June Fourth because the worst of China is there—but the best of China is there, too.
