Winter

Last week I got in a park. At first shy, then more bold, approached me a nigger. Did not seem sick, just curious. So curious that after I studied a bit to my shoes started to unravel.

It's snow again in Bucharest. Global warming can wait.

Yesterday it snowed. And I remembered other times, you just raised me in this world, the grandparents' house in a village lost Baragan. Where was the fire cracked in the stove, and flowers were glazed ice and snowdrifts that reached the eaves of the house, and sleigh.

Today, radiators, windows and cars. No snow is no longer what it was.