Ludvík Hradílek

“In 1984, Ivan Lamper came to Prague, invading this bunch of people with his grim face. So, we decided to start a magazine. Oriented on literature, big, printed on cyclostyle, not written by hand anymore. I was some sort of an exception in this group. I had a job – meaning some sort of an income – I had a passport, I had a driving license and a car. All the others were artist and had the ‘blue book’ – a document relieving them of military duty due to alleged mental illness. They lived out of disability pensions or some ad-hoc jobs. And since I had a camera and a darkroom to develop photos, they asked me whether I was interested to do some shoots for them. So I was in touch with them since the very first issue.“

“Instinctively, I went to the other side, there were almost no signs. I keep going and suddenly, all around me there were walls and reflectors shining from all sides. I came right in front of the prison entrance! All the policemen who were previously standing at the junction and doing regular guard stopped right behind us. And the three people I had in my car were totally drunk. I thought that we were totally screwed. I had a cyclostyle and I was going directly to Leopoldov prison. They asked: ‘Where do you travel from, guys?‘ – ‘Hungary.’ The wanted to see passports, took a look at them and asked what were we carrying. I opened the trunk and immediately, they asked what was in the bag and opened it. I was scared to say it was a cyclostyle, so I said it was a graphic press. ‘Aha, and where did you get that?’ – ‘I bought it at the flea market.’ – ‘Do you have any receipt?’ – ‘No.’- ‘And where did you get the money for it?’ – ‘A friend had lent me.’ I started to get lost in my own lies. ‘That is interesting, take it out. And what do you have there next?’ One of the guys had a huge camera in the trunk. Peripherally, I saw how the drunks were swaying out of the car, leaving me behind alone.”

“To reach the meeting point, we needed to climb approximately five kilometers up the hill. We met down below the Sněžka mountain, close to a signpost. There was a border guard there along with five Polish guys sitting around at the resting area. Five sympathetic, smiling Polish guys who had exactly the same backpacks as we did – big blue ones with iron buckles. In the bodyguard’s sight, we placed our backpacks next to theirs and sat down. Then we exchanged a few words with them, to make it look like we just met by accident. They had some alcohol with them, so we had a drink, too. In the end, I took their backpack, put it on my back and went off. But that backpack! It must have weighed maybe 30 kilos, it was stuffed and I wasn’t able to carry it!”

“Suddenly, a border guard jumped out of a bush and said: ‘Stop! Who are you?‘ – ‘We are Czech tourists.‘ – ‘You are not allowed here!‘ We told him we knew it but we wanted to make a shortcut. He wanted to see our IDs. I showed him mine and then he wanted to see Saša Vondra’s, too. And Saša told him he didn’t have one, which of course caught his attention. ‘What do you have in your bag?‘ the border guard asked. So, he took a look and said: ‘Books, huh? Okay, go.’“