August 12

Every morning I get up and drink my coffee and´then I head on up the four or five flights of stone stairs that separates Cesta from the main town. I think it wakes me more than the coffee. The days move on and I begin to wonder about what we are going to do by way of collaboration. Like many of the groups, our group is struggling -- or some of our group is struggling -- with the collaborative process. Strong personalities emerge to pull in one direction and the quieter ones resist. Yesterday, some of our group assembled a structure in the attic.

I am beginning to receive emails from what is now, I suppose, my audience. It becomes more difficult to write honestly -- as witnessed above. I have been writing this blog since June, and I noticed a complete lack of audience. Not even my fellow artist have been reading the blog. I think this is odd because I would like to know what is being said about me.

I had begun to wonder about all the hype about blogging and the virtual universe, but now that people have found me and are reading this, well then it becomes a different matter altogether. Now it becomes more difficult to be honest. So, shall I say that I am feeling left out of the process. That I feel outside of the group. Well yes, I feel all these things. I keep telling myself that this is part of the collaborative process. That I have an opportunity to confront those feelings. They are old feelings too.

The centre of Tabor is the old town, and below in the surrounding valley, is the new town. The buildings in the new section sort of expand outwards in an array of progressively newer buildings. Yesterday, I was walking towards the new town. While walking through this stretch of alley, I came across a group of children. There were four of them grouped together and a little further away from them, was a little boy. They were yelling something at him and he was crying. I think I learned the Czech phrase for cry baby.