I’m a chronicar of a world that doesn’t exist. A gray world that has nothing spectacular in it. In the people’s opinion, the city is their permament nightmare. If the city is a nightmare, then I don’t understand the phenomenon of rapid urbanization. Anyway, I’m not a sociologist, I’m an unknown journalist. My name doesn’t matter, but you can call me Abel. There’s no biblical connotation, it’s the first name that came out of my way. I’m writing a few modest newspapers. I earn my money by composing commercials for different nonsense that are hardly sold. I missed myself as a writer. I’m a lost destiny, in my opinion. In my friends ‘ opinion, I’d be a good journalist.I declare myself chronicar of common facts that can change the world. No one has ever thought about how a simple pillar can change destiny or how a newspaper stand can give rise to something special. I’m trying with my clear lack of talent on the following pages to introduce you to some stories about the city’s life. I confess you something; I hope to remain between us… I sent them to the newspaper, no one published them, I went to a prestigious publishing house, the people there said I had no academic language, I tried a smaller publisher, but I was given the understanding that I should bring some money from home, I tried my luck on bad magazines, where I was replicated to write too elevated. In short, no one wanted to publish me. So I finally found a possibility to share them with you. I hope you don’t crisper me too harshly. I sincerely want my little urban stories to be known over time by the inhabitants of any great city in the world.Don’t worry, I don’t write chronicles about the life of the great city. I’m not a discreet citizen, because I like to talk about everything that’s going on around me. The magic of metropolis is the fantasy of the man who wants to forget his story. I’m glad I live in a big city, so I forget the story of my life, a story I didn’t write, I didn’t manage to live it. That’s why in the city I dissolve myself and disappear into every cement fiber, and from me remains something hard to explain. Probably nothing…I wrote these lines to free myself. I believe that when we are in love, angry, tired, the city with its diverse vastness calms us down and rests us. I want to share with you several events in a city that exists, Bucharest. But it’s my Bucharest that I see just the way I feel. I wish I could match the words exactly as I wish, to tell you a story of this indescribable city. A simple story…
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