Tynošita – Maňas Dalibor (2021)

The fate of an artist is always solitude. With solitude comes a dog and a horse. An animal beside you emphasizes solitude. Frost, a cigarette, and coffee. Only when you take a dump in the frost on the latrine in the morning does it truly dawn on you. The true face is hidden in the everyday: Every village has its metal band that plays at local parties every weekend... In the village, they make tractors out of motorcycles and Trabants... The village waits, no spaceship is landing on the horizon. On the way back, we picked up a hitchhiker. She smelled. Dalibor laughed at my humanitarianism. Life is a trip. Rhythm, and only then sound, sound more important than music. We dragged ourselves from the station in Moravské Bránice up to the cabins. The ground frozen, snow on it, my older son on a sled in tow. Back then so small. Next to us, Týna was hopping around, still lively. The cabin settlement completely empty. Mainly to be on the sidelines, not to be surprised by anything, to pass through the city without emotions. The stove crackled, frost outside the windows, the child fell asleep, and we took turns writing. Each of us one or two sentences, manifestos were born. When the Perseids fell, what did you wish for? Nothing, I didn't manage it. The less junk you carry with you, the easier it is to walk. And your electric guitar sounds that much harder. Karel Škrabal