Late April with long awaited sunny days. The mornings are particularly gorgeous. Crisp air with sharp light, vivid green starting to dress up the city with a sense of calmness.
No, no, no. I’m totally wrong, here comes the chaos. Morning traffic, angry faces, dark circles around hurried people’s eyes, honking, pedestrians going around the mud. Ah, they are digging up again. In the middle of the street. I find a sense of lyricism in these layers of Bucharest that are starting to show up. Let’s see: improvised mini markets behind cars with fresh fruit from gardens and steam in the air. Yes, that sounds very much like it. Like the crazy mix of the beautifully repainted theater and the mess and mud in the intersection, with the smoker woman inviting me for strawberries grown in her greenhouse and the supervised workers looking at my ass while i am crossing the street. The swearing words of the taxi driver rushing almost on my steps on the zebra and the journalist in smart clothes bumping into an old lady walking her blind dog. All of this. You have to feel it, I can only offer a glimpse.
Bucharest. I live here. I love it.