
When I'm really happy, I cry: happiness is somewhere deep in the throat and it is excited by hope and light-carrying tears. The next time I was crying was on Vilnius Street when I first saw the dancing people of the Krishna consciousness movement. I saw how the Soviets fed them into psychiatrists simply because they read "no" books and did not want to turn into a Soviet monstrous communist man. And when I first saw on the street the colourful white, saffron-tone dressed and lovingly looking, singing, dancing, people who distributed meals made by themselves and so pure of God's name, I understood freedom and respect for the choice of man had really come.