Our Only Neighbor

This is just two steps away from my front door, so I cheated a bit.

The man who lives here is our only neighbor. I guess you could say he is slightly mad – but we are all mad here anyway. I don’t know his name, but he roams the city every day on his apocalyptically tuned bike and gathers the most incredible objects. From Christmas trees and teddy bears, to old paintings and erotic photos.

One day he brought the most amazing vintage pair of stilettos. He is very fit, very kind and he takes very good care of his 3 cars, now iconic Dacia 1100s of the Communist era.

On Christmas Eve, my son and I left him a little present on the fence, and the next time we saw him he said: I know it was you. Thank you, guys. But he said it as if there was nothing special, just the most natural thing in the world. Which it is, I guess.

I’ve been thinking about him these days, I hope he stays inside and safe.

Bucharest, Romania

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