Vision

Breath in. Breath out. Inspire. Expire...
Cars racing in the street like streams of roaring thunder. The darkness prevailed once more in this tiny Babylon. This city is the broken habitat of almost a million tragedies and even more heartaches. It is a mutant of democracy clinging to a rachitic king. Whores fill the backstreets and sneer hungrily at the young passersby. Arab beats crawl and slither from the seashore into the city. By summer, this resort is the farm of the country. Pigs, oxes, rats; they all revel in the luxury the locals so proudly offer. Alcohol, food, women. The city becomes an oasis of pleasure in this desolated land that is our country. Again, arab beats. Sirens scream somewhere far away in the city but wither in couple of seconds. An ambulance. Goes away as unnoticed as the rest of the world outside the cheap wooden restaurants disguised as artifacts from another era. We did not choose to be deaf. We are forced into it.
Silence. The park.
The park is a leper. Each year it counts its days by the missing parts. It looses limbs to malls, to stores, to banks and gyms.
It will be gone in a decade, taking with it, the collective memories of all its neighbouring people. I remember passing by a building which used to be a dance training court. It was being demolished. Dance is illegal in a world that can only hear the beat of money. The streets are overfilled with food and luxury while the poor bleed dreams from alcoholic eyes that gaze blankly at the wonders of capitalism. Constanta is a perfect replica of a western coastal city yet it remains a land of ruthless savagery.
It copied everything, buildings, transvestites, homosexuals, pizza parlors, home delivery, online ordering and dating; however it did not copy the people. This city will forever remain a jewel in the hands of an orangutan while the world looks in pity and walks away.