I have outgrown my city. I have outgrown two cities already. Five years ago I could not imagine outgrowing another city but Reșița. Five years later and I feel like wearing a tight black dress that’s too small whenever I think of Bucharest. It’s funny how nobody asks you if you’re willing to do it, to actually grow up. It’s like waking up in a bed and suddenly my feet are out, hanging there, clumsily, showing me the way out. Get out of bed – I have gotten out so many beds so far, leaving dirty sheets and bodies behind, tears and food, ashtrays and cigarette burns. I sleep on bright green sheets now. This is the last bed of Bucharest so far. It has wheels that can make me move so fast. I thought I knew what’s what or when to stay or when to leave or when to stop or when to love or when to forgive. It looks like it’s just me for now – waking up, going to the supermarket, buying tomatoes and green peppers, bread, toasting the bread, boiling an egg, boiling some water, pouring the coffee he left and thanking him for all the things he’s left and all the things he’s said even though he’s not reading this anymore.
pictures on film taken in Reșița by Dan Roșu