The more time passes the harder it is to write. The more is happening, the more I want to say, the more I think about it, the more I postpone.
I’m moving to Liverpool. I’m starting a new company. Tomorrow is the last day of my old job. A big fly got into my kitchen, flying in circles and buzzing away. A few weeks ago, I had my first public talk and live radio interview, speaking about the US. I took the train through the Balkans and visited Greece during the debt crisis. I stopped writing fiction, I started writing business proposals. I have a long list of people to get in touch with.
In Bucharest, the asphalt is melting and the city became a big construction site. Water pipes, roads, underground tunnels, blocks of flats. Drivers are honking a lot and I wish they could hear the full blast of the noise they create. The trees are shedding their first dried leaves. The lake in the park is dotted with boats.
Seagulls laughter mixed with crows shrieks and a crickets’ choir.
It’s sad to leave, it’s exciting moving to a city by the sea, it’s scary to start a new business. But soon enough, you’ll be all invited to Liverpool for a stroll down the dock. They say it’s the friendliest city in UK.
Photo taken from a friend’s balcony. Bucharest at its most quiet — sunrise