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the official data was there. The verdict was abolished entirely
by the next amnesty. But what became the prevailing joke is
that when we had the accident, a woman ran out of the house to
which that fence belonged, and shouted: “Oh. My tomatoes!”
The verdict had one side-effect though: my application
to yet another English trip in 1969 was refused. I was thirsty for
England. In my previous journeys I experienced and learnt
things that reformed my way of thinking: I realized the gloomy
direction where the world headed. Capitalism might be bad, but
a totalitarian communist dictatorship that does not respect
nations kills the soul. I liked the society in England, I liked that
people are respectful and patient towards each other, I liked that
they are well off. Of course, I had some conflicts there as well,
for instance in Soho, but you could always feel yourself in
safety, you feel that they want to please you that they do not
want to subdue you while defending their own value system.
The English were a conscious nation throughout history; back
when Sigismund of Luxembourg visited the country, they made
him bend the knee and swear that he did not come to buy lands
in England. The only thing they cared about was your person,
who you were, what you wanted, because they knew that there
was a high chance of you disappearing after leaving the
country’s boundaries. They were not going to stop you just
because they could. They were not going to check your ID. I
was eager to see London again, that London which then was not
yet overcome by tourists and by migrants. I was drawn there by
the promise of free museums: the Tate Gallery, the Victoria and
Albert Museum, the British Museum, and because I was young,
Venus by Velázquez Rokeby, the Nude in the National Gallery,
which was the perfect painting in my eyes. I always watched it
with awe, despite knowing that you would not be able to see the
lady’s face from that angle in which she held her mirror – in
other words, the painter cheated.

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