HOPE FOR PEACE
From April 25 to May 18, 2025, Yona Tukuser carried out an art action titled “Hope for Peace” in St. Peter’s Square at the Vatican. Each day, for hours, she stood motionless and in silence, holding her message “Hope for Peace,” handwritten in her red lipstick on a sheet of butcher paper. This solitary, silent art action turned into a living installation – a collective, global prayer for peace, connected live through mass media.
Лондон, Великден 2025
На 20 април, на Великден бях в Лондон с майка ми при брат ми и неговото семейство. Тъкмо прекрачихме прага, когато жена му ни посрещна със сълзи – току-що бе получила обаждане от командира на фронта в Украйна: брат ѝ, намиращ се на нулата близо до Запорожие, от месец нямаше вест.
На следващия ден, 21 април, разбрахме, че папа Франциск е починал. Съкрушена, почувствах, че най-силният глас за мир е замлъкнал завинаги.
23.04.2025
На 23 април, отидох до Lancaster House – мястото, където се водят дипломатически разговори, за да направя безмълвно действие в знак на солидарност с украинския народ. Там случайно срещнах екип на Al Jazeera. Попитах дали мога да споделя своето послание. Те ме поканиха пред камерата.
Извадих от чантата си червилото и парче месарска хартия, коленичих и изписах:
„Надежда за мир“.
Така за първи път посланието ми беше предадено на света.
(видео: Al Jazeera – първо излъчване)
24.04.2025
25.04.2025
Пристигнах във Ватикана с едно намерение:
Да се сбогувам с гласа за мир – папа Франциск.
Отидох до гроба му. Стоях в мълчание и плач. Във видеото, което заснех, се вижда как се моля, плача и прошепвам:
„Моля те, Папа Франциск, чуй ме. Народът ми се нуждае от мир.“
(видео: [Yona пред гроба на папа Франциск – лична молитва])
След това, по пътя към изхода от базиликата, усетих вътрешен порив. Извадих от раницата си плаката „Надежда за мир“, за да го покажа в знак на почит. Но в този миг ватиканската полиция ме обгради.
Без предупреждение, бях арестувана и удряна по ръцете – само защото държах хартия с думите „Надежда за мир“.
Болката от ударите се смесваше с шока и срама – в самото сърце на Църквата, изразът за мир бе възприет като заплаха.
Това не ме спря.
Излязох от базиликата и се изправих на площада. Казах си:
„Ще стоя тук всеки ден – в тишина, в молитва, в надежда – до деня, в който новият папа ще произнесе думата „мир“.“
(снимка: Yona в мълчание на площад Свети Петър, с табелата „Надежда за мир“)
HOPE FOR PEACE
26.04.2025
Photographer: Stefano Stranges
Photographer: Stefano Stranges
28.04.2025
Photographer: Giacomo Vari
Photographer: Giacomo Vari
30.04.2025
HOPE FOR PEACE
01.05.2025
04.05.2025
05.05.2025
Photographer: Galileo Cheng @galileocheng
The Collective HK @the_collectivehk
At the gates of the Vatican, "HOPE FOR PEACE" met the eyes of the Cardinals, hurrying out with thoughts of the upcoming Conclave.
I was silent. But everything inside me was screaming.
Five minutes earlier, my mother called on the phone:
“They killed him! He was at zero.”
A boy from my family. On the front line. In Ukraine.
I trembled. I froze. I broke down. I cried.
I didn’t leave. I stood.
I stood in their path — not to shout, not to protest, not to appeal,
but to be a living wound before their eyes.
To carry the message from those killed on the front,
from those dying in that very moment —
and from those who still carry a living hope:
Hope for Peace.
Thank you, Galileo Cheng, for capturing this moment —
for showing what the Cardinals saw before the Conclave.
The photo was published in Hong Kong by @the_collectivehk —
a voice against censorship.
Caption under the image:
一名女子拿著HOPE FOR PEACE 的標語向樞機們展示
/A woman holds a "HOPE FOR PEACE" sign and shows it to the cardinals/
Photographer: Marco Romagnoli
The Cardinals hurried to leave St. Peter’s Square, pushing their way through dozens of cameras. Like a wave, they swept me away and pressed me between their lenses. In that very moment, my mother called. At first — silence. Her voice trembled. “They’ve killed him…” she whispered. “At the front.” A boy from our family. In Ukraine. My arms grew heavy like stone. Not from fatigue — from grief.
Tears ran down my face... The lenses stared at me like giant black spider eyes — many, glassy, soulless.
The cardinals passed quickly, casting fleeting glances at the “Hope for Peace” sign in my hands — but none of them stopped. The wave of reporters followed for the Cardinals. And I was left alone.
I let the "Hope for Peace" down ...
Then photographer approached. He saw my hands, hanging down, and said:
— Please, lift “Hope for Peace” again. I want to take a photo of “Hope for Peace”.
I looked at him. My eyes was full of tears, my voice — quiet:
— I can’t.
— Why? — he asked.
— Because I lost. I lost hope. I can't hold up “Hope for Peace” anymore.
The photographer froze. Not a word. Just one tear slid down his face. And his eyes cried with mine.
— All right — I whispered after a while — I’ll lift it one last time. For you.
But this will be last photo. Tomorrow, I won’t be able to come back.
With effort, I raised my arms. As if lifting a cross, not a hope.
— I can’t go on — I told him. — It’s too heavy. I have no strength left to stand. I will sit down on the ground.
And I sat. Humbled. Shattered.
Not from weariness — but from despair.
The photographer cried... and kept taking pictures.
— I’ll be back in a moment. Don’t go — he told me. — I have to go to my workplace.
He @marco.romagnoli_ walked over to video camera. He was reporting live from #Vatican for @newsmax covering upcoming #Conclave @shelby_wilder_ @alexsalvinews
But his tears didn’t stop. They flowed quietly — down the face of a man behind the world’s lens.
And I sat. A stone in the sea of vanity.
I sat, while the “Hope for Peace” leaned on my legs, so it wouldn’t fall completely. Photographer: @marco.romagnoli_
Photographer: Marco Romagnoli