Every day on my way to work I saw these people staying in noise, dust, exhaust gas and humidity hoping a car will pull over. Somehow, I felt pity for them and an idea came out of my brain. I wanted to start a project about them, but I wanted to make a story, interact with them, not just take their picture and go away. I managed to gain their trust somehow. They shared with me their deepest secrets and their miseries. But it wasn’t enough for me. Because of the fear they accumulated in Ceausescu’s era they didn’t let me take their picture. Most of them are elders and still live with the fear that SRI and Fisc (a kind of Romanian CIA and IRS) listen to their calls, bugs  their houses, watch them on any corner and so on. I am a little bit disappointed, but I’ll try again next year. Till then, I stole their pictures.

Constanta & Mamaia, Romania. 2010

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