Since June 1968 I have told many people that one of the most important things I had learned during the student uprising in Belgrade, or perhaps ever, is that sudden and radical transformations of what may be provisionally, but nevertheless pompously, called social consciousness are both possible and, for all practical purposes, unpredictable. The “events” saved me, in a certain sense at least, from judging all the morons out there too harshly, because I had seen so many dead souls blossom in a matter of hours and without any tangible cause. True, the process is to some extent reversible, but that cannot spoil the experience altogether. I have seen this transformation happen only once, but I know that there is no reason to believe that it will not happen again and again, and maybe even around me. Etc. My account is usually dramatized by a lot of agitation—rapid eye movements and all. My question, however, is rather simple: How is it possible that I have thus far failed to record this, reportedly most significant, experience of my life? How is it possible that there exists not a single written trace of it?

To Lorris Mizrahi