We are talking to people; to the "burmistrz" of the town Bogatynia, to older ladies hidden behind a bush straight before their house down town, to little girls in the swimming pool at school. We are holding shot-ready huge film camera, mounted on a tripod, or attacking human beeings with our weapons in bare hands; - a smart Olympus Mju, heavy and quick Nikon F4, Kafka-like "Oktavhefte", pens and big bags with grilled chicken and beer. We are on the road; we are still moving forward, even if we´re just walking backwards; we are tired, because everybody of us did not sleep more than three hours last night. So we are eating Polish sausage and running to the meeting in the council. Anyhow, we´ll have to wait over twenty minutes; - we were late fifteen, by the way. "I´m an artist, what shall I do?", says Bernardo. He comes from Italy - my new friend, as far as artist can be friendly, in the most positive meaning I could mean. At that time while Bernardo and me are carrying cameras, crowds, bags and tripod, Burkhard leaves us, heading towards the German-Polish border. Border is a key-word for our journey; Burkhard, a two-metres tall guy from Köln-Berlin, is joyful, even at those seldom moments when he isn´t, and has got a lot of friends at "Bundesgrenzschutz" in Zittau/Zgorzelec since yesterday. Thanks to him our website is held up to date every day; for the material of today Bernardo and me are just waiting. I am taking pictures on the street, looking for topic we search; Bernardo is talking to two poor looking kids.

"Where is he from? Czech Republic? What language is it?", asks one of them. "He´s from abroad", I say, "and I´m from Szczecin". It´s in the North. It´s true, even if I´ve spent last two years of my life in Vienna, Austria. They wouldn´t comprehend it. They look at me. "Are you Czech?", they ask. It is too much. I was suppose to propose them a portrait; I´m giving up.
Burkhard is coming back. He has sent data of yesterday. When we talk to the mayor of Bogatynia, he will be listening without understanding a word. Bernardo is filming; - camera set free from the tripod. He is not following the conversation, either. I have to ask questions and write down some more interesting sentences. Bernardo´s recording face and hand movements, yarnings and laugter. It´s working on good stuff. Afterwards we´ll say: "Don´t let them speak them so long. Let us look for other people".

A drunkard comes up. I talk to a girl, asking: "Could you repeat the same without my questions? You know, I´m not here. Two, three whole sentences". At the moment she answers: "No, I can´t", the drunkard notices my too long hair. It will be not the first time we will not make use of a person "ready" for an interview.

Look for
What you are not suppose to find

The task seems to spread by itself; to run in every direction people around us go. I can see it in "everyman", when it becomes understandable to me that this place, this famous "Turoszow´s bag", really lives its own life, directed by a unique position on Poland´s not only geographical map. Administrational border as country border and connecting people from abroad not in order to connecting over a border. Or is it that old getting-used-to, which enables us to imagine the impossible? We are getting over; now, when Bernardo and Burkhard are sleeping, over the tireness of past days; yesterday, while travelling over Czech Republic from Austria to Southern Poland, on the way to break through borders inside of the participants on the project. We are becoming a team: and the topic is becoming a part of our experience instead of a target.