We got off the bus at Filaret. After I responded about five times "nu, multumesc" to taxi drivers offering a lift, we started heading the old town. Everything around us seemed so familiar, that I had the feeling I never left.
That's true. I'm an unsteady, anxious, unstable, weird individual. To count how many times I've moved from one place to another is more difficult for me than to count pairs of shoes in G. closet. And believe me, my friend G. is a fashion freak and a collector in one person. She has an abundant number of shoes. And no, I will never understand that. I just accept the way she is.
Once per year I change a country I live in or at least the region and continuously change an environment and people that surround me.
Some of them stay in my life for longer, some of them vanish.
Naturally.
Nevertheless, wherever I anchor for some time, I always try to plant my flag, create the home that I carry with me, inside me, all the time.
And find a new home in people and places that fortunately happen.
Whenever I have a chance to return to some places that I consider as mine I'm becoming excited and nostalgic.
Last Saturday, that feeling escalated enormously when we were passing the brick walls of one spot in Bucharest where I use to spend restless nights with my people.
And I said:
D., this is the place I wanted to show you.
And you? Have you settled down already?
Thanks for checking out,
Aga