Prague: June 25th
Every so often, a so often that soon became every other day, Nell would pass a painted slogan that she knew was Jiří’s work. No one else was as neat—and while many of the small army of sloganeers wrote in English, Jiří seemed unique in his fondness for, and belief in, rock ’n’ roll lyrics, the subversive power of which was largely lost on Nell.
WE ARE THE PEOPLE OUR PARENTS WARNED US AGAINST
Jiří was at his desk cutting up more cardboard when she got home to Petr’s apartment.
“Barrandov?” she asked simply.
“Yep. He said to tell you it’ll be another all-nighter.”
She paused in the doorway, wondering whether to tackle him or not.
“I saw one of yours today. You’ve been busy.”
“No I haven’t. I’ve only done two today. Which did you see, the John Lennon—’Strawberry Fields Forever’?”
“No. It would be the other one. It began with ‘Stop.’ I wondered what it meant.”
“Does it have to mean anything?”
“I can’t see the point if it doesn’t”
“OK, auntie—”
“Don’t call me that.”
“OK, Fräulein. Suggest something that does mean something.”
“How about … Man is born free, but is everywhere in chains.”
“Oh no—not Marx!”
“It’s Rousseau, you idiot.”