Birds of passage
Seven years had flown by before I came back to Romania. The first trip had left me with blurred and obscure memories, as if the ambient haze of Bucharest had taken hold of it. The cityscapes melted into each other, leaving in my confused memory as unique vision the gray concrete.
But Romania was calling me. It had an irresistible attraction on me and a power of fascination that I could neither explain nor measure. I had to go back by any means and resurrect memories with images.
Once I got there I was stroke by the melancholic feeling that I had felt a few years ago.
From the window of my train compartment, I see the snowy landscapes scroll by, through a halo of mist. Above me, flocks of birds heading south; the passing birds.
I meet people on board, sketch a few portraits and still lifes, while scribbling in my notebook details of what I’m seing.
This series of images tells my return to Romania.