The 'Bulevard' blazes with all its luminous signboards and resembles for just a minute 42nd Street, but it's only playing a game; it just wanted to play at being New York on a 100-meter stretch; in Bucharest, yesterday is quickly forgotten, today doesn't count, the only answer you get is: 'mâine,' that is to say, tomorrow.
 Bucharest, Paris, 1935

by Paul Morand