Night Lights Light Nights Of Bucharest
Sometimes glowing colorfully in the dusk air, as doors of museums open up for late visitors, or, some other times, its dark sky flushed by lasers for white nights of entertainment, Bucharest often begins to live and breathe anew after sundown. White NightsNow that the
Playing With The Past
A Word with Two Meanings We invent words, then let ourselves be subjugated by them. There would be no knowledge without words, but it is words again that grow into independent entities, obstacles that come between us and the real world. They move us closer to and at the
Bucharest As An Alternative Space
It may be said about some cities that they are theatrical; that – in other words – they look like a stage set. Take, for instance, Venice or Naples. It may be only an illusion, however, given a host of plays by Goldoni or Eduardo de Filippo whose plots revolve around
The TV Star
The star was to appear in a special live program, at 9 p. m. sharp. For a week now, every evening, the announcer of the popular channel 7 informed the viewers that on Tuesday night they will see Him singing, dancing, reciting, in a word, performing; Him, the adored, beloved,
Circus Act In Black Dress
We joined forces and bought him an amazing present for his birthday. Then we put on smart black suits and black hats. We took the present and went to his place. It was two at night and murky. The fair was empty. Only a few pairs of lovers were kissing hidden in the merry-go-round
In Four Corners Of The World. A Bunch Of University Professors In South Africa
We are four university professors, invited here in the year 2000 (we have started to use this number with a certain panache) for conferences and for negotiations concerning a possible world congress of the International Society for Comparative Literature – one from Germany,
Blinding: The Left Wing
excerpt The following days, Mioara took the girls for a walk in Chishmigiu Park and treated them on a boat ride (the driver of the black car had rolled up his sleeves and was rowing across the lake, giving the ladies nice smiles from under his pointed moustache). Later
All Those Images
Early Sunday afternoon, lying in bed with a large illustrated book of Ion Creangă stories, Memories of Childhood Days: the time stood still, waiting for me to turn over the pages, and I had all the time in the world. My father was sitting next to me reading too, but I was