I visit Falticeni, the small town in Northern Romania where I was born, at least twice a year. This spring, however, I have stayed a whole week and I have taken some long walks to those places that bring sweet memories of my beautiful childhood back to me.
The first stop was in the neighborhood where my grandparents used to live. The flat where I spent a significan part of my first 10 years of life was placed on the last floor within a four-level brick block. I took a quick look where their balcony used to be but now modern window frames were glittering defiantly. But generally speaking, nothing much has changed since I left the area. Instead, something else happened: trees had disappeared.
My magic trees that gave me thrilling, happy moments when I was a small girl, were cut down for making space to cars which needed parking spots. Or for building useless constructions. Read More