Wasp Meadow (Vosí louka) was the name of a place where, long ago in 1977, an unforgettable camp took place for one boy, which might have been a scout camp if those clowns hadn't banned scouting in Czechoslovakia a few years earlier. That boy was me, and I still remember that camp to this day. If it hadn't been for that summer, I might not be doing what I do today. So thank you, Wasp Meadow, and all the rest of you who were there.

lm64

P.S. On this website, you will find samples of my work without any further explanatory comments. I try to follow the advice I once received—independently—from two people whom I still respect to this day. It went like this: "If you feel the need to explain in advance what your story, song, or picture is about, it means you don't have a high opinion of your audience—or of what you yourself are creating." I don't know if I've ever received better advice than this in my life. Perhaps only the advice not to take myself and the world around me too seriously. And that when my shoes get wet, it's a good idea to stuff them with newspaper overnight.