We know what the birth of a revolution looks like: A student stands before a tank. A fruit seller sets himself on fire.
I was born in 1957 and spent my childhood in China’s remote Xinjiang region, where my father, Ai Qing, had been exiled.
The certificate was only one of several that emerged from the prestigious Salon du Chocolat in Paris, the annual summit of the world’s master chocolatiers. But it may be enough to start a revolution in Peru