A City of Ice

I woke up to find a city of ice. Everything was white and the branches of the trees were sparkling.

I spent the day at home. I went out for a walk in the evening. The playground nearby was a fairy tale.



I tried again two photos, one with the auto flash, another without flash.


Bucharest: the small Paris hiding the small Phanar, the city of the Avant-Garde of the twenties, the city of the apartment buildings from the long years of Communism, the city of the present: dynamic and contrastant, crazy, noisy, beautiful and ugly, always surprising, always unexpected. A Hong Kong waiting for his Chris Doyle.

Today it was a city of hoar frost.




(Bucuresti)