Bucharesti (Winter)

A dry drab Warsaw-pact sky, Roumania as evolution--the year is 1945. A single suitcase, Gara de Nord. The only ticket available. Basarab--no--more Beregovsky's Khasene, the one with the newlyweds, their serious faces, veiled smiles, from sometime before the war. Now just a suitcase--quality luggage, on Lars' recommendation. But also, painting as a kind of reliving...first Portbou, the Hotel de Francia, steep cliffs to the sea, early autumn light. The Angel of History, looking back. But no, this is Bucharest, the Gara de Nord, a maze of tracks swerving urgently to the left, power stanchions, muted sky. Just the lights of one monstruous hotel parked far in the distance, poplar trees, even, almost green...