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My grandpa liked to quote well-known Czech writer Karel Čapek,
the inventor of the word "robot":

"Once people get used to life's substitutes, they will lose the ability to enjoy life itself."

This, inevitably, raises the question: Is the art a life's substitute, and what is actually the art?

For many years I searched for the answers to this question, and even now I am not satisfied with what I found. Finally, I resorted to my own definition, based purely on my personal feelings. I started to call art anything that I hear, see or feel with such an emotion that my skin turns goose-pimply and tears start filling my eyes.

In my childhood, and actually even long after that, the world was divided into two parts, East and West. For the first twenty years after the war in Europe there was very little exchange of information, and the general population on both sides relied mainly on their own imagination.
  East and West were not just diverse systems; they were in fact deadly enemies. They both claimed superiority and accused each other of lies and diversion. At the time of writing this, I have spent half of my life in each part of this divided world, trying to live my life as close to my dreams, as much as I was allowed to.
   I met people and visited places I would never be able to visit, should I have not crossed that partition. I did, and I paid a high price for it; I had to change my friends and my home.
  I have also complicated my life. The Czechoslovakian secret police kept a dossier on me, which contained hundreds of pages of testimonies and accusations. Some were released after the change of the political system there. They questioned my accidental connections with people in high positions, who they believed were far remote from my social status in society. These connections were, of course, only accidental, and beyond doubt did not reflect on my social standing. Yet, it was a good enough reason to accuse me of being a spy and start years of intensive investigations.
  Twice I committed the crime of leaving Czechoslovakia illegally, and twice I was given a jail sentence. Paradoxically, the only days I spent in detention were my first days after I entered the free Western world.
  I travelled to places, which were like some distant fairytale kingdoms, full of friendly atmosphere and friendly people. In my opinion it used to be a better world, and I consider living through those exciting times as a priceless reward. Reward, I am not aware I deserve.
  With every new episode I lived through and with every new place I entered my roles in life perpetually changed. Some were sad and some were happy, some were even tragic, and some roles were almost comic. Nevertheless, every new role gave me a new start; every new role has renewed my vigor and replenished the courage I needed to face the events to come.
  We are all different - some of us like Picasso's paintings, but I don’t; some of us don’t appreciate melody or rhyme, but I do. I believe there will be many who wouldn't like my pages, but I also hope that there will be at least some who would enjoy them.
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