True Beauty of Crises

Because our world is going through a crises, we seem to return to the good old "poverty" values. We aim more to the natural standards, which may result in a good turn for our ever consuming world. 

I am happy to be part of the generation that stands tall in front of the world crises. 

It's not easy to go through something which is in theory a collapse, which will be talked about as the world crises of the 21st century and yet it is a moment to realise that values are not lost, just rediscovered. I am happy to be part of projects which promote that kind of simple beauty we seem to have lost among the artificial things. And it's hard to know where beauty lies when all that has been promoted as premium has been fake. I believe brands are the first who need to reinvent themselves in such a world change. We redefine movement in a world that needs faster mobility and has less physical activity. We are the ones who learn poverty may mean beauty, if class is added to it and if harmony joins. It's not easy to return to values that were never taught and to educate kids in the manner which proves there is life beyond the unreachable aspirations of marketing. And the crises is teaching us just that. 

Consumerism is winning new values and reusability becomes marketable. Thanks to some big metropolis who redefine style in the vintage version and thanks to some smart marketing tools, we learn to recycle the old into new fashionable things. 

I take a bow in front of the artists and creators who know how to promote as classy the simple miracles in our everyday lives. 

We need to keep in mind the beauty of basics in order to keep track of our human condition. 

The Weakness of Being Weak

I was kindly asked today what is my purpose in writing. For the right answer I had to take some time to think about it, though I've known it all my life: there is nothing making me feel better than the writing. This is what helps me say things as truthful as I can. With irony and deep analysis I see the world as a better place. All the sad truths most people get angry about, I am now facing with a smile and an ironic thought that it shouldn't be changed or else we wouldn't have anything to laugh about. I turn the disturbing dysfunctional into the strange matter to laugh about and move on, the buffoon of the court. 

And with all your judgemental writings, you don't want to change anything?

said the man with the voice. No, I don't want to change anything. I want to make a point and those who will be willing to listen may change something in time or laugh with me at the moment. 

But this means you are weak and you are not a weak person, continued the man with the voice. 

I am weak, that's why I write about it. I am weak, that's why I never change things, but I rather stand back, as a decent and quiet observer to the useless panic, the crazy yells, the unfair thefts, the disturbing sounds, the indecent approach to the normal life and the rest of our everyday encounters. 

From dusk till dawn, walk your feet in a crazy pace or in a slow move and you will notice a funny story, you will see someone who raises emotion in you. And that someone has a story to tell, has done something wrong and while counting up deeds, you will have to laugh about it, about life, about the world we live in. 

And this I call weak, not strong. And proud to be standing up here on the mountain and chase the stories down the piece of paper, the blank webpage, the empty text message. 

From time to time I get my head in the clouds and forget I am still down here, with the feet deep in the earth. But it helps. It helps a great deal to be the urban anthropologist. 

A good day for thoughts, for chatting, for getting back to writing. 

A good day for a walk down Calea Victoriei, Bucuresti.

Urban anthropology

I get to walk down the street and up the street in search for inspiration from time to time and I find that there are a lot of characters with probably interesting stories to tell. For example, I noticed there are some street people who live in the same neighbourhood they know for years. The funny thing is they don't have a home, but they continue to stay down the streets they know. They could be nomads and try to find shelter somewhere else, but they prefer the known land. And one day I saw this street woman who was giving advice to a new mother walking her baby. I found it charming because for one moment she was no longer lower, socially speaking, but an equal or even higher in terms of knowledge. I am always afraid of these people because I don't believe I get them. And I feel most normal people think like me. Still, I may be wrong in some ways. They are human, after all. And the house is not a condition for being human.