"Bucharest. Dust and blood" - Małgorzata Rejmer

Bucharest (…) is like boiling water or surf, rough and murky. (…) The city’s attributes: black tangles of wires on utility poles like nests forsaken by birds, dug up streets and makeshift arrangements coexisting with banquets in shop windows, overpowering smell of linden and crushed grapes. Elegant architecture from a distant world. Sound of wobbling trams, honks of furious taxis a second before a crash. Singing of Gypsy children and old ladies who roam the streets near numerous flower shops owned by mothers of these children and daughters of the old ladies. Dogs, looking like black and grey bundles abandoned by someone who was in a hurry, are everywhere”.
I asked my friends about what’s beautiful in Bucharest. They replied:
Bucharest is like a cake bought on a Sunday, apparently chocolate and sweet, but with bitter icing. You won’t find easy beauty here.
Shamelessness, hysteria of style, superficiality. Compared to Bucharest, every European city seems static to the point of being boring.
I also got a photo: legs in black tights and colourful socks, tucked into a plastic bin. A diving mannequin trying to sink in the rubbish. And a note: “You have to force yourself to think of something beautiful in Bucharest and still you die of longing”.
Małgorzata Rejmer


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