On Mondays, during the "The City Talks" show, a house in Bucharest tells its story. So it happened that on a Monday I passed by a house in my neighbourhood; a house that I have been starring at for two months.
The first time, I caught a glimpse of it at sunset. The vacant lot in front of it and the block of flats behind it made it easier for me to notice it. But not only the contrast gave it an advantage. The patina of charm did the trick.
The brick wall may had been functioning, at a certain time, as a support for a grape vine with perfumed grapes.
It seemed that the new has taken over. Otherwise, I can't explain the air conditioning and the satellite dish.
The brick chimneys and the wooden utility pole emphasize the sensation that I went back in time, without any fantastic machinery. The arches of the windows continue to give the house a noble spirit, even though the neglection is advanced.
If this house could talk to me, it would probably have many interesting things to recount. And I do not just mean balls, beautiful costumes, enchanting music and distinguished people. It would probably explain to me how the world has changed since it was built and how, still, it remained the same. I dare to believe that if I feel happiness by looking at the house, the same thing must have happened with those who have built it. With whom, thus, I have a lot in common, for I rejoice just as them at the sight of beauty. Sometimes it's hard for us to remain connected with the past. We consider that it has passed and nothing of it could find its place in the present.
But still, it does. Something still remains. Beauty.
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