Almost

from left: rundown houses on Lipscani and Mosilor, Dimbovitza river from Hasdeu bridge, street in Cotroceni Bucharest smells exquisitely during the time of lindens and rain. Vigorously soaked for a half hour, the city heals even from the stenches that make you ill. Under

Photos by Dan Hayon excerpts My first adventure in the capital city, sometime in my early adolescence. Confusion and ecstasy, fear and the excitement of the unknown, as though in a foreign country where, strangely, everyone speaks my own language. A dizzying cocktail of

clockwise from top left: Smardan St. , Stavropoleos St. , Caru cu bere pub (2), Stavropoleos Church (3), Russian Church. Early Sunday morning before 10 A. M. , the city offers its first surprise. It is empty. The bare streets are visible in all their twisted length, without

In those days they used to go to the Eastern Station, visiting some acquaintances: friends, as they might, after all, also have called them. Except that on this point, at least, Olga was right: they were not their friends; indeed, there was no way or time when they could

Like most people living and working in Bucharest, I've often wondered what it would be like to live in any other European city, to actually be surrounded by civilized human beings and not to collect a ton of dust on your shoes and clothes after a day's trip to

No matter how much you tried to humanize it, to make a mental projection of it as seen through a magic lens which deforms the world and makes it look more beautiful than it actually is, no matter how much you looked for its weaknesses, you'll never find a new vision,

In history, the diurnal has always been a distorted image of the nocturnal. In daylight, events are the way we want to see, feel, and understand them. The nocturnal rejects such a compromise for the tranquility of crowds. It has existed next to us since the dawn of history,

top row: around Bishopric St. , Capşa restaurant, Magheru Blvd. , in Cismigiu gardens (see also Them in Gallery) If we take an X-ray of the articles published by the major Romanian dailies, we get an overwhelming abundance of unsettling, grotesque events created by outbursts

Several TV channels have been offering lately, especially on the lazier weekend days, shows about houses. They're filmed at more than sluggish speeds, with repeated shots and, usually, presented by voices that just can't contain their admiration for the ideas of

Photo: Mihai Duţescu I'm reading an article written by Roberto Segre about the architecture intended for the working class, an architecture that has changed the landscape of the towns only in the twentieth century. Until then, poverty did not have such a great influence

Peeled off plaster, broken windows, rats scuttling at ease day and night. And above all, the filth. Complete and utter filth reigning supreme over a piece of downtown Bucharest. But also over a piece of our past. The only part still living is the sign above the door, reading

I no longer love Bucharest. I'm no longer hoping something can be done about this dump of Europe An interview with Mircea Cărtărescu by Ion Longin Popescu Slowly but surely, the old, historic Bucharest – the little that was left after Ceauşescu's demolishing