Does Piccolo exist?

 Does Piccolo matter? espresso

When you go to a traditional Czech restaurant or a cafe and study their menu, you may find a list of coffee-based beverages you have never heard of before. The most intriguing ones include Vienna Coffee (coffee with whipped cream), Algerian Coffee (coffee with whipped cream and egg liquor) and Turkish Coffee (coffee with ground coffee at the bottom of the cup).  Should you order a presso,  expect something like lungo, and if you want to experiment with a piccolo, you might end up with a plain espresso but also a ristretto.

Czech coffee lovers have had it with the inconsistencies in coffee terminology and typology. In 2010, a coffee consultancy called Kávový klub (Coffee Club), was founded “as a response to the need to promote knowledge about fine preparation of coffee in cafes as well as at homes in the Czech Republic.” They launched a popular campaign called “Piccolo does not exist” with the ambition to eradicate piccolo as well as other instances of “nonsense” and establish a new coffee order.

There is no such thing as piccolo, they say.

There is no variation to espresso, there is no piccolo, no small or large espresso. There is only espresso. The volume of an espresso is 30 ± 5 ml, the recommended extraction time is 20 to 30 seconds and the pressure it is made under is approximately 9 bar. –WBC 2012 Help us reinstate a coffee culture.”

Seeing their poster for the first time, I immediately thought of Magritte’s picture of a pipe that says “This is not a pipe”. Magritte’s picture is witty and unsettling and makes one reflect on the relationship between a physical object and its representation. The campaign’s depiction of what is an espresso lacks that kind of sophistication as it defines espresso in an authoritative and normative way. The interesting part is that it unintentionally invites a viewer to experience a dissonance between knowledge, language and the perceived world of things: what we know and how we talk about it does not necessarily correspond to our experience. (If I’ve already seen, ordered and drank something called piccolo, it exists, but what if it actually was an espresso?) Campaign organizers should not be surprised at how many people now jokingly (yet proudly) demand piccolos or even consciously offer them to guests. Partially, perhaps, it is simply because our brain has trouble processing negative declarative statements, such as the notorious “Do not imagine a pink elephant!” But the issue is more complex.

This is a pink elephant in a room.

For a long time, anthropologists have been dealing with a similar problem: how to study phenomena such as spirits and spirit possession without applying our own bias. Just because western science cannot prove the existence of spirits, we cannot assume that a non-western person possessed by a spirit should be regarded as psychotic. Consider the Hauka movement in Niger, which was documented by the French ethnologist Jean Rouch in a short documentary called Mad Masters (Les maîtres fous, 1955). The members became possessed by British Colonial administrators and, while in trance, mimicked some of their ceremonies. (You can watch the video on Youtube: and

Anthropologists have tried to study and understand the world, rendering importance to all kinds of knowledge and beliefs. To do that, they needed to question their own tools, methods and biases and devote themselves to giving voice to all forms of life, belief, and knowledge, especially the endangered ones – even if they are as tiny as a piccolo (which means small) .

Interestingly, I found a piccolo in East London and here’s what the “natives” are saying about it:


More documentation of piccolo. By the way, does machiato exist or is it macchiato?







Posted in Food Scholar's Digest

Does Piccolo matter?

Does Piccolo exist?

In 2010, a coffee consultancy called Kávový klub (Coffee Club), was founded “as a response to the need to promote knowledge about fine preparation of coffee in cafes as well as at homes in the Czech Republic.” The importance of knowledge in the area of food production and gastronomy is not a new thing and definitely not unique to the Czech Republic. Knowledge and expertise are important for the search for authenticity (Johnston and Baumann 2009) that is characteristic of today’s food culture and of what the sociologist Sharon Zukin (1991) has called “reflexive consumption.” However, in a post-socialist context, the struggle for the establishment of correct knowledge and ways of consumption also translates into questions, such as, have we caught up with the West yet? are we cultured enough?


Czech agents of civilization

The famous campaign of Kávový klub, called “Piccolo does not exist” is against using the word piccolo as an equivalent of espresso on menus in Czech restaurants and cafes. But that is not all:

It’s not so much the presence of the word piccolo in menus that bothers us; it is rather the degradation of the concept of espresso. A café that offers piccolo (even if it is of reasonable taste and the right parameters) also always offers espresso that does not represent anything that could be drinkable. That’s exactly what we would like to disappear from cafés – the terrible thing called by “wordly-minded Czechs” the “presso”. The only thing that can remain is the perfectly balanced and excellent tasting espresso, which a barista is able to pour, extract, describe and present.

At stake according the campaign organizers is not only knowledge itself but also culture. The motto of the campaign, which says: “Help us reinstate a coffee culture,” also implies that properly educated consumers can also become “civilizing agents” and can bring about the lost culture of drinking coffee.


English gentrifiers

But what should this “coffee culture” look like? I’ve recently started working in London. Having my couch-base in East London, I got to explore areas such as Hackney, Shoreditch, Bethnal Green, and Whitechapel – all areas with the nicest cafes and, I’d say, a good “coffee culture”. They’re also areas that have either already undergone heavy gentrification or are currently transforming.

Back in the 90’s, Sharon Zukin (1991: 214–215) argued that new cuisine was related to the phenomenon of gentrification. Both started becoming prominent in the 70’s, when new relations between production, investment, and consumption began to result in a new organization of consumption. This new form of consumption has been relying on “critical infrastructure,” that is, an infrastructure of agents that are critical of urban developments and produce critique. Concomitantly with them, a new group of consumers has emerged and distinguished itself from other groups through their “reflexive consumption.” Basically, what this means is that consumers who are conscious of their consumer choices need an infrastructure of people who can feed into their knowledge. That is why artists, foodies and yuppies hang out in the same area. And once the critical agents need to move elsewhere, they will be followed by the conscious consumers.

I’ve been reading The Guardian’s reports on gentrification of East London , including the protests against a place called Cereal Killer that sells a bowl of cereal for £4 and has become a symbol for the evils of gentrification. I think I might have become too much of a “reflexive consumer” myself to enter the place but I did go see it. It looked tiny and random and it could hardly be blamed for such a complex urban problem. (Could we blame the celebrity activist Russell Brand who opened Trew Era Cafe nearby allegedly using money he made off his book, Revolution?) Similarly, traditional Czech cafes and restaurants that offer piccolo can’t be blamed for keeping the country from becoming more westernized. But both Cereal Killer and piccolo have become useful as tools for navigating through change and transformation.


Posted in Food Scholar's Digest Tagged with:

Homo experiens – člověk zažívající! Přednáška 9.10., ZENIT, Praha

Přijďte si to užít! A zamyslet se nad tím, jestli je dnešní hlad po zážitcích příznakem úpadku nebo spíše svědčí o civilizačním pokroku. Proč a jak se stáváme experty na vlastní zažívání?


V pátek, 9. 10.představím svůj výzkum luxusu a zážitkové gastronomie v rámci ANTROPIE, cyklu pravidelných antropologických večerů.

Kdy: 9.10. 2015, 19:30

Kde: ZENIT, Krymská 24, Praha.

Facebook event:

Posted in Uncategorized

Learning to experience: My Nephew’s Adventures in Coffeeland

My 2-year-old God-son loves coffee – He loves playing with it, smelling it, moving it in “huuuuuge scoops,” and most of all, he loves to “make” it for all family members. His barista skills include filling up filter cup, tampering coffee, pressing the espresso machine button, and “cleaning up the mess” he leaves behind. When the coffee’s done, he demands to drink it even though he knows he isn’t old enough. Sometimes, he’s allowed to lick a spoon that’s been dipped in coffee. He claims it’s very good and even makes the “hmmmm” sound to express his connoisseurship.


Trying to tackle the question of how to think of taste and the experience of taste, I couldn’t have a better case study. Coffee becomes an experience before it becomes a result of a contact of the liquid with taste buds. My nephew never extends his neck to reach for food as much as when he’s trying to lick a coffee spoon. Before he can taste coffee or understand the rituals around it, he has experiences that create and shape his desire.

“Becoming a marihuana user”

Howard Becker described the role that learning plays in the creation of experience. In “Becoming a marihuana user” (1953), he argues that learning to get high requires learning proper techniques by imitating others, learning to recognize the symptoms of marijuana, and learning to enjoy them. Becker points out that the experience of being high requires user’s active effort to recognize the symptoms caused by marijuana and to consciously connect them to the drug and to his or her previous experience. Becker says:

… being high consists of two elements: the presence of symptoms caused by marihuana use and the recognition of these symptoms and their connection by the user with this use of the drug. It is not enough, that is, that the effects be present; they alone do not automatically provide the experience of being high. The user must be able to point them out to himself and consciously connect them with his having smoked marihuana before he can have this experience. Otherwise, regardless of be actual effects produced, he considers that the drug has had no effect on him; “I figured it either had no effect on me or other people were exaggerating its effect on them, you know. I thought it was probably psychological, see.” Such persons believe that the whole thing is an illusion and that the wish to be high leads the user to deceive himself into believing that something is happening when in fact, nothing is. They do not continue marihuana use, feeling that “it does nothing” for them.

Bruno Latour, who is equally fascinating as he is challenging to social scientists, proposes that we see the body not as a substance, but an articulation of differences and a potentiality for learning to be affected. In his essay on “How to talk about the body” (2004) , Latour suggests that we think of the body as an

interface that becomes more and more describable as it learns to be more and more affected by more and more elements. The body is thus not a provisional residence of something superior – an immortal soul, the universal or thought – but what leaves a dynamic trajectory by which we learn to register and become sensitive to what the world is made of.

This is in opposition to a more traditional way of thinking about the body as a physical space where the immaterial mind is located. This division comes from René Descartes who divided the human into res extensa and res cogitans – the extended thing and the thinking thing, the corporeal substance and the mental substance. From this separation follows the type of thinking that sees the body as governed by the mind, or sees a conflict between the desires of the body and of the mind.

Cartesian Subject

Cartesian Subject

Latour does not separate between the two. The body is an interface with a trajectory. Learning and experience can only happen through the body when the subject is “put into motion.” Only when it stops being indifferent can the subject be affected by differences and be “articulate.” My nephew’s curiosity has already made him articulate about the smell and feeling of coffee as well as to the ritual around it.

Curiouser and curiouser

In her book Service Included, Phoebe Damrosch describes the philosophy of Chef Keller, the chef in the famous New York restaurant The French Laundry, and his “law of diminishing returns,” and “abundant extravagance,”

in which he reduces the size of his many courses to make room for a variety of flavors and textures. At the French Laundry, he constructs his menu in order to give only enough to “satisfy your appetite and pique your curiosity,” enough to have you beg for “just one more bite.” The other side of this law is the abundance of extravagance. “I want people to know what foie gras is all about,” he writes. “I go overboard with truffles and caviar too, so that people who have perhaps only eaten truffles in stingy quantities can taste them and say ‘Oh, now I understand.’”

The law of diminishing returns that Chef Thomas Keller follows is based on the realization that an excess of stimuli may lead to habitualization when the subject can no longer perceive and be affected by differences. Therefore, there needs to be space for curiosity. On the other hand, “abundant extravagance” gives the subject enough stimuli to learn to recognize their specific effects. There’s exclusivity as well as generosity – a well-proven formula.

A Mad Tea-Party in Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

A Mad Tea-Party in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

Who knows what goes on in the head and the body of a two-year-old when he’s playing with coffee. My guess is, both the law of diminishing returns and abundant extravagance are at work. He gets to participate in the full extravagance of the ritual and through his enjoyment of it, he expresses that he understands. But he, for sure, is growing “curiouser and curiouser.”

Related reading:

The Coursera course on The New Nordic Diet offers a lot of information on how taste is acquired, on taste learning curves and how they can be improved. They also mention various fascinating research projects on taste, diet and health. More information on that here:

Posted in Food Scholar's Digest

How I became Top Chef for one day.

It’s Monday so I’ve decided to bring a light personal story of how I became a Top Chef for a day.

I have a secret career as an actress. I’ve never taken acting classes, never had a real acting job, but I’ve been going to auditions for TV ads for the last 10 years or so, and I’ve gone from extras, to featured extras, to minor roles, and I even said a line once.

In 2014, I auditioned for a role in a TV ad for M6, a French mobile company. It was for a role of a character in the “Farmer Wants a Wife” reality show. I got called back and as I was auditioning, the director asked me to try another role – a contestant in the “Top Chef” reality show. I got the role and it was fun to wear chef’s uniform once again, like I did during my fieldwork in a kitchen of a high-end restaurant. Sometimes, life just makes things come together in the sweetest ways.


You can watch the ad here:

Posted in Food Scholar's Digest

TEXTure matters! What can chefs teach us about story-telling?

One of the most inspiring conversations I had with chefs and cooks during my fieldwork was with Milan [not his real name], a young curious cook, who tried to explain to me that every dish needs to make sense and ingredients have to be paired together according to a certain “logic.” For example, a dish with chicken may be inspired by what the chicken eats, or rather, ate, so it can go with corn, something grass-like, and so on. In that sense, innovative dishes and recipes can be seen and read as stories. They are not only material but also textual, and they hold together through matter as well as through meaning. They have TEXTure!

The great semiotician Roland Barthes said that Text is not a finite substance – it is relational, experiential, infinite, and irreducibly plural. It is a fabric of meanings and even the word text itself originally comes from the word fabric. (Latin textus means ‘tissue’ and comes from the verb texere, to weave.)

Can we say that great chefs are story-tellers?

Bulli's Letter Soup dessert

Bulli’s Letter Soup dessert

Consider the TEXTure of the Letter Soup dessert by the famous Chef Ferran Adrià of elBulli: Is it a soup? It says it is! but then again, it doesn’t look like soup. This moment of surprise and uncertainty is only the beginning of an infinite play of meanings. Like Text, as Barthes would say, “the soup” plays and generates pleasure in circular, rather than causal, movement. It sets us free from conservative ways of thinking in terms of cause and effect, and from desiring in terms of need and satisfaction. Ferran Adrià makes it okay for us to desire things that, according to conventional ways of thinking, do not make sense. And he knows what he’s talking about. After all, his desire is “to eat something that does not exist.”

Compare the philosophies of these two great quantum theorists: For Schrödinger, the task is to think originally and challenge one’s understanding of things while remaining in the realm of “the seen.” For Adrià, the goal is to change his understanding through feeling and being surprised (surprise happens when things emerge from non-existence and affect him emotionally).



But what if Adrià finally ate something that did not exist and in the end, realized that he didn’t eat anything?

The downside of this “semiotic virtuosity” (a term used by Arjun Appadurai) is that it needs to be carefully orchestrated into something not unlike a symphony. In order to be appreciated, such a complex and complicated product also requires an investment on the part of the consumer, who could always end up asking – Did I get what I paid for? But if all goes well, the experience may be so profound that it can even inspire a musical composition, as in the case of the French musician Bruno Mantovani who composed a piece called The Book of Illusions: Homage to Ferran Adrià: “The piece is composed of 35 movements (one for each dish) through which the composer illustrates the texture of each of the recipes of the menu with music.

As I wrote before, the senses and our sensory experiences can inspire creativity and innovation. However, we also need texts to give these experiences meaning. Only through meaning / sense-making / logics, can we understand, create, translate, and have an experience. Mantovani translated food into music and called it a “Book of Illusions.” He understands the importance of TEXTure – in food as well as in art.


Posted in Food Scholar's Digest Tagged with: , , , , , , , ,

Homo experiens: the human who seeks experience

It’s all about experience for the modern man and woman. We are a new human species – homo experiens, the experiencing man.



Google Ngram Viewer shows an increase in the frequency of the use of the word “experience,” compared to, for example, the decline in the frequency of the word “taste,” “delight,” and “pleasure.” Random observation or is there more to it?


Experience has become a part of personal economy and identity and functions as a resource which grants authority, truth and authenticity. (1)

But what is experience? Can we produce and buy it as a product and a commodity?

According to Raymond Williams(2), since the 18th century, the word experience has been used in two different senses:

  1. “as knowledge gathered from past events, whether by conscious observation or by consideration and reflection.” Think work experience, for example. Or lessons you’ve learned that have made you into who you are.
  2. “a particular kind of consciousness, which can in some contexts be distinguished from ‘reason’ or ‘knowledge’.” Think aesthetic or religious experience. This kind of experience is usually considered personal, yet it feels so authentically true that we often need to share it.

The first sense of the word refers to something we’ve learned in the past, whereas the second sense relates to something we feel in the present during which the whole being and consciousness is activated.

  •  Are these two ways of thinking about experience mutually exclusive?
  • Can we learn to experience authentically?
  • Can we have authentic experience on a habitual basis?
  • Do we feel more free and real when we do something habitually or when we do something new and exciting?
  • Can a consumption of a product give us a sense of freedom?
  • What’s the role of shame in all this?

These are some questions I’m going to look at.

1. Abrahams, Roger D. (1986) “Ordinary and extraordinary experience.” In The antropology of experience. By Victor W. Turner and Edward M. Bruner. Urbana & Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 45-72.

2. Williams, Raymond. (1983) Keywords. A vocabulary of culture and society. Revised edition. New York: Oxford University Press.

Posted in Food Scholar's Digest

The Chef is the new genius

When I think of what the new genius, the genius of the 21st century, is like, I can’t help but think of a Chef!

Looking at high culture, pop culture, and even the job market, it is clear that the ideal for the ultimate mastery of the world is no longer embodied by a brilliant mind with awkward behavior. One needs to be smart when it comes to tastes, senses, experiences as well as knowledge, communication, and showmanship.

The following are very NON-academic observations based on my fieldwork in luxury restaurants in the Czech Republic and my conversations with cooks, waiters, foodies, experts, etc.


  1. The Genius is still mostly a man

Unfortunately, the myth of a genius has always been associated with male gender and that part does not seem to be changing although I have had people in the field telling me stories of former female colleagues who were amazing and didn’t take sh*t from anyone. Allegedly, one female chef “marked days in a calendar when no one could talk to her. It was a menstruation calendar.” These women were legends but they were always outshined by “crazy” male chefs with the weirdest work habits and tattoos.

Ferran Adria in front of his drawing of the creative process.

Ferran Adria in front of his drawing of the creative process.

2. It’s not the Beautiful Mind, it’s the Beautiful Body

The location of supreme intelligence is no longer in one’s head; it is in one’s whole body. In the era of artificial intelligence, being really good at maths or physics is no longer as sexy as being able to smell, taste, touch, design, and transform the matter that the world is offering. We are still impressed by the minds that can calculate the most efficient strategy for how to spare ourselves the horrors of nuclear attack, but consider the minds and hands that will make us forget our boring comfortable lives by curating experiences for us.


Rasmus Kofoed

Rasmus Kofoed

  1. Matter, dirt, and stuff replace the abstract and virtual.

I’ve recently conducted a workshop for kids. The aim was to get them to play with dirt. They LOVED it. Whoever thinks that the new generation wants to live in the world of 0’s and 1’s is probably mistaken. The current way out of the Matrix is through our bodies and senses.

Dirt Foundation Workshop


  1. Truth does not make sense; desire does. The chef shows us what we want.

The way we think about logics and meaning is expanding beyond truth values. What generates more value right now is creating new connections and meanings. They might not be strictly true but if they continue creating new meanings and connections, they are working. Logics is no longer in the domain of analysis but in the domain of desires.

elBulli's Letter Soup dessert

elBulli’s Letter Soup dessert

Even though “The Soup” is not a letter soup, not even a soup, it still affects our desires. In an economy where experiences are the most desirable commodity, the Chef is the genius of curating surprises, experiences, etc. by inviting us to learn and be affected by stuff that’s been linked together by unexpected connections.


  1. „If I can’t eat good food, it’s not my revolution.“

Allegedly, the revolutionary Emma Goldman said: „If I can’t dance, it’s not my revolution.“ Genius is always revolutionary because what they give the world has implications for the society, politics, ethics and morality. Common people don’t usually get things right but that doesn’t mean they remain unaffected. The new Genius Chef will teach the world how to understand politics, social problems and global issues in terms of health, affect and enjoyment.

Jamie Oliver

Jamie Oliver


  1. The new genius is still mad and dangerous
The main character of the movie Pi

The main character of the movie Pi


Marco Pierre White

Marco Pierre White

… but a lot more visceral and colorful.

Marco Pierre White

Marco Pierre White

If I am correct, we will see an even greater rise of the new genius in pop culture very soon. Perhaps the next James Bond will be a great cook, or we will see more superheroes who are chefs, such as Jiro in Get Jiro!) or maybe we’ll just see a lot of privileged people cultivating their kids‘ cooking skills. Well, that’s already happening, but I’m wondering, when will I meet a 9-year-old who will offer to make me his or her signature dish?


Posted in Food Scholar's Digest Tagged with: , , , , , ,

Mouthwatering images

Food porn refers to the kind of visual depiction of food that creates a desire for consumption, especially through hyper-stylization and focus on detail. Journalist and philosopher Jeremy Iggers claims that the origins of food porn are connected to advertising industry and increased interest in the image.

I would like to suggest that this rise of the image has transformed the role of pornography, in such a way that whereas what was once erotic about the erotic image was its resemblance to the human body, today we gauge the body by its resemblance to the image. In sum, the relationship between sign and object is reversed: the sign is now more real than the object./1

It is not surprising that we have a desire for something that feels “real” and gives us an intense feeling of being real and being present. Many other products are marketed to us in the same way – they promise experience and enjoyment of life. The interesting part that Iggers points out is that this desire is created and even satisfied more by the image than by the food itself.


According to Iggers, branding of food allows for the creation of image and perception of particular products so that they create desired experiences in consumers. Therefore you’re more likely to enjoy branded chicken than a “no-name” chicken.

Since I’m already talking about the visual, I was thinking about all those photo-editing tools that make pictures look older. Fredric Jameson talks about “nostalgia for the present,” which creates the feeling that the present is already gone, a part of history. Anthropologist Arjun Appadurai says that a product that has this hint of nostalgia for the present is something we want to buy immediately “not because you will otherwise be out of date but because your period will soon be out of date.”/2


Again, we see this effort to enhance the intensity of the act of consumption. Consumption becomes urgent and needs to happen here and now, before everything ends. It gives us a feeling of being a part of reality and even history.

1/ Iggers, Jeremy. (2007) “Who Needs a Critic? The Standard of Taste and the Power of Branding.” In Food and Philosophy: Eat, Think, and Be Merry. Edited by Fritz Allhoff and Dave Monroe. Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing.

2/ Appadurai, Arjun. (1996) Modernity at large: cultural dimensions of globalization. Minneapolis & Minn.: University of Minnesota Press.

Posted in Food Scholar's Digest Tagged with: , , ,

Proč nezačít rovnou něčím, z čeho vám potečou sliny? Food Porn!

Termín food porn se většinou vztahuje ke způsobu vizuálního zobrazení jídla, který vzbuzuje touhu po konzumaci, a to zejména díky hyper-stylizaci a důrazu na detail. Novinář a filozof Jeremy Iggers dává původ food porna do souvislosti s reklamním průmyslem a celkovým zvýšením zájmu o obraz:

„… vzrůstající význam obrazu proměnil roli pornografie – zatímco to, co kdysi dělalo erotický obraz erotickým, byla jeho podobnost s lidským tělem, dneska naopak hodnotíme tělo podle jeho podobnosti k obrazu. Celkově se převrátil vztah mezi znakem a předmětem: znak je teď reálnější než předmět.“

Přesně o tu reálnost a zintenzivněné prožívání reality jde, a to nejen v případě food porna. Podobným způsobem jsou nám nabízeny i jiné produkty, díky jejichž konzumaci si máme lépe užít a vychutnávat život. Touha po autentickém prožívání života není nic nepochopitelného. Zajímavé však je, jak si všímá Iggers, že tuto touhu vyvolává spíše obraz jídla, než samotné jídlo.


Tak co se stane, když si koupím smažené kuře na základě šťavnatého obrázku? Jak ukazují výzkumy, pravděpodobně mi bude chutnat víc než nějaké jiné, no name – nebo spíš – no image – kuře.

Když už jsem u obrazu a vizualizace, vybavují se mi fotky jídla na Instagramu. Zamýšlela jsem se nad tím, jak a proč na nás působí efekty starých fotografií. Fredrick Jameson mluví (v souvislosti s filmem) o „nostalgii po přítomnosti“, která vyvolává dojem, že přítomnost je předmětem historie a jako taková už uběhla. Antropolog Arjun Appadurai pak tvrdí, že takto vymezený produkt si pak chcete koupit okamžitě, „ne proto, že jinak budete out, ale proto, že vaše doba bude za chvíli out.“


Myslím, že zase tu jde o zintenzivnění aktu konzumace. Ta se stává naléhavou – je potřeba konzumovat tady a teď, protože tohle všechno už brzy skončí. Tato naléhavost nám propůjčuje pocit, že jsme součástí reality a dokonce i historie.

Tak to by bylo na začátek – dostala jsem se od porna, přes autentické prožívání života až po naléhavost historie. Tak ať mi už nikdo neříká, že jí proto, aby žil, ne naopak. Ono je to totiž mnohem komplikovanější.

Posted in Knedlíky Tagged with: , , , ,