In the train, watching the cloudy skies and finally just being, with vague thoughts, distant memories and no regrets or worries. Listening to the most beautiful sound in the world, the ethereal sound of the train weals on the railways, when the train moves very slowly and dreamily through forests and by the Danube.
I only have these blurry phone photos, but it’s ok. In Bucharest, together with friends that I meet once in a few years, but with whom we find each other with the same easiness and affection and closeness each time, I saw the sunset glowing on the communist architecture, as eerie as a metaphysical painting. I didn’t take any picture, except for the ones in my memory.