Being born in Bucharest is like a curse. 
Go over crowded images and contrasting sounds, always looking to see your inner peace.
The environment is attractive, through the fat history.

The phone and the anxiety killed my personality.

The pandemic has now appeared, I have to check my blood alcohol level.

Rica from Obor, I want to fly on Mars.

I feel like a mollusk,
Squeezed energy,
From so many screens,
From too much technology.

I apologize in advance,
An extra idea didn't want to come to the dance.

                 *those were the journal pages
   
  
       
      
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