X. I observed, I saw through provocation.

I observed, I saw through the provocation.

Two weeks after the events on section 4, I was transferred to Bogdanka,

in prison, when you'd already become close with your buddies, they sent you on transports.

I happened to know them too. Their mentality also deserves mention,

or maybe I was stupid when I thought it was tactless. While they were constantly talking about cars,

a huge sheet of metal was brought to the shaft and stood there like a dream board.

The dates of all the freedom uprisings resounded on it like a battle retinue,

starting with the words: the party decided to guide us through events.

During the shooting of our ancestor, we retreated right up to the shaft gate.

Despite the screaming size of the slogans, no one noticed them.

We gathered in a well-lit area with a visa notice

to attract their attention. To attract their attention, I said: "Look, someone has cooked up a proclamation

while reading it, someone chuckled derisively, another threw it." This man is crazy,

the word "fool" addressed to the creator was a great impertinence on their part.

After all, I wrote this at the risk of dismissal and arrest.

Only communist clones incapable of action could behave this way.

But it didn't discourage me; I wanted to inspire them with my example.

So next came the miners' town with its walls.

I spent half the night painting over the large advertisements and display windows.

I hoped they would be legible to the workers between shifts.

The weekend was about to begin, but they wouldn't remove it until Monday morning.

The cleaners had the day off, but they were called in as an emergency on Saturday.

To gauge the residents' reactions, I was present as a random observer.

Miners arrived from the night shift, I heard; There's no cure for stupidity.

While washing off the paint, the creator collected countless curses from the women,

and this higher level of intelligence didn't discourage me, though it hurt terribly.

The militia went wild, patrolling the streets at night, and I painted in secret from them.

Even the advertising boards were removed to minimize my exposure,

to avoid falling into the hands of the military junta. I operated as bloodlessly as Janosik.

My heart rejoiced when someone erased the metal sheet underground, another rewrote it.

The foremen and higher supervisors surely saw those inscriptions.

The sheet metal stood for a month. I was happy that the miner, the peasant, was wondering,

maybe one day he, too, would desire a sense of personal freedom and free speech.