Scari de bloc in Militari

The entrance in apartment buildings in Western Bucharest

Ferentari, July 2017

Ferentari at sunset, on a stormy Tuesday in July.

Berlin, July 2017

I went on this Berlin trip with Robert and Liina. We arrived at noon, last day of June, and we had a beer at the airport. The streets in Neukölln, where we stayed for ten days, were filled with the smell of linden trees, which was unexpected and beautiful. In Bucharest, linden trees go into blossom in late-May. I somehow forgot that Berlin is a Northern city, where days last forever in summer. It was so bright at 6pm, like the day was about to start. No glance of afternoon or sunset. The light was still strong and vibrating at 9pm, and I felt like I was high. My plan was to visit some of Berlin’s lakes. I first went to Krumme Lanke, with Robert, then to Müggelsee and Plötzensee by myself, and to Liepnitzsee with Liina and Zveti. The water was a bit cold, but somehow it’s really rewarding to swim in a cold water, surrounded by forests. And when you get out of the water, you feel strong and free. I didn’t get very nostalgic to see Berlin again, except for when I went to the Botanical Garden. It was late in the afternoon, and it was the most beautiful light and smell, golden and mild, with so many perfumes. As I was resting near some lavanda flowers, a fox showed up. It made me really happy to see her, so I followed her a bit, and took some pictures of her. A woman working at the Botanical Garden told me that there is a family of five foxes living there. It was almost closing time, so I had to leave. I came across another employee, preparing to leave. He had a beer in his hands, like everybody in Berlin.


I went to the office today and saw an amazing pink sky. The grandmother of Ruxandra, one of my colleagues, told her that the sky is pink when there are winds blowing (e vremea vantoasa).

Morning, early 2017

Waking up at 6 am every day comes with a short moment of horror. (Probably also because it's after only a few hours of sleep, sometimes as little as two or three). It's like having a few seconds when your mind sees with high clarity where you are, what you are. I see myself lonely, afraid of getting old, afraid of dying. I think of my parents, my friends. In those few seconds, I know who I am- or at least that's the feeling. Then I normally turn on the laptop, maybe get out of bed to make a tea. That's always calming and nice because it reminds me of my life with my parents. That's how every morning would start at home, with tea boiling on the cooker, them getting ready for work, me preparing for school. Then I check Facebook to see if I have any messages, I look at Sumi, who is  still sleeping. Or she may already be awake, asking for food.

And sometimes, I remember to look outside the window. It's still dark at 6am, but an hour later, it's day again. By 9am it's already too bright. It's my favourite moment then. I am done with work, so I pull the curtains and get in my bed for the sweetest three-hour sleep. The phone is on do-not-disturb and nothing can be more important than sinking into a deep sleep.