Go down to the subway, to feel the hot and sweet scent of stations. Remember it, because at one point, it will become part of you, like the scent of a house or of a loved one.
Go up on the rooftops, to silence the city, to see the buildings and the streets, as if part on a computer’s motherboard. From up there, you’ll feel there is an order to everything, even if there is not.
Join the rhythm of the pedestrians and the cars. Make sure you keep up, don’t cut lanes, don’t swear back, stand on the right side of the escalators, mind those who flirt on Facebook while they’re walking, don’t ruin their happy moment.
In the summer, find its shaded gardens from behind the apartment buildings, among the ghettos and wonder at the fact that you’re still in Bucharest, even though you’re actually in the countryside.
Let the city put its arm around you, lure you with its fliers, free samples, and invitations; let it tell you the deal, but carefully consider everything and make your own decisions. Don’t let it crush you.
Step on its loose pavement and listen to your own steps.
Love its nights lighted up by shawarma shops and pubs, forgive its expensive 0.33 beers. Make it through to 3 a.m., when Bucharest is tough and vulnerable, a whimpering bully.
Carefully walk the streets: poets you’ve never heard of, lived in these buildings with half-crumbled balconies. This is where they lived and created their art during the final stages of their lives.
Special delegate: Radu Ciorniciuc
Special editor: Mircea Ioan Topoleanu
Special help: Vlad Odobescu
Special drone operator: Sergiu Nicolae Brega
