If I squeeze my eyelids together until the lashes touch, I can still see the silhouette of a lone student facing down a Muni bus in Union Square. I can see the solid figure of a middle-aged man standing on the roof of a Market Street trolley, his arms outstretched. "Ce - Tsar! Ce - Tsar," an oceanlike throng shouts over and over and over again, until the logic of its chant becomes so irresistible as to... More >>>