The cartoon narration was moody and depressing and bizarre, and I felt that the artist was trying too hard to be "edgy," for lack of a better word. Honestly, it felt forced, and I think the guy was just a little too pretentious. But his narration has continued to run through my head, much like the lines from a Monty Python film.

Cue the Burcak. In the Czech Republic there is a special type of Moravian young, fermented wine called Burcak, and it's available only for about three or four months a year. It's in season now, and because it's fermented it can't be safely bottled. It's very low in alcohol, and tastes a lot like a cider. Today I found a small wine shop carrying Burcak, and I enjoyed a glass and cheese as local neighbors stopped by to have their liter bottles filled.

The lady at the wine shop insisted that I carry home a liter, and tonight I have been sipping on that. And it has led me to create a counter to the existentialist crap that passed as art in Prague. My turn.  JKT

I walked up to the man and asked where I was but he would not speak to me for there was a tear in his eye but not a face and the tear fell into the water and it was me and I was the river that could drown myself, but not you. For what are you except a dream that carries forward the lies that you have taught yourself. I would speak to you but my voice has been taken by the cloudless winds that affirm the nature of the futility and you say to me where but I answer why and you pretend to know the answer, but it lies undiscovered. The world shouts and I whisper but unrecognized we leap and fly to places in our minds, unknown. The face looks at me with no eyes to see what I have told it, which is nothing. 

******

I got bored and walked out on that cartoon narration, and I would hope that you would do the same, even with Burcak. At least I'm going to include some random, pretty pictures. All my best. JKT