The Partos Monastery (1655) – by its positioning in the middle of the rural community is a special place both from the spiritual point of view and from the openness towards people and culture.
Father Varlaam Almajanu – after a long period in which the monastery was closed, he opened the gates again, thus reviving the small village entrusted to the monastery.
During my stay in Partos I was led by a man of the monastery through the houses of the villagers, many of whom were at the extreme limit of poverty, but they all received us with open hearts because we came from the monastery and we can bring only good.
Through the loving service of this monk named by children “Padre” , he managed to open the hearts of people, to love, to the light, and to find again the joy of living.
They say: “Even if it’s hard since “Padre” came to our monastery we have hope, salvation and much love!”
A loving man draws near him people like him and together they can change the world. A extraordinary community has been formed around the Priest and the Monastery involved in everything that is the life and mission of this place.
work in progress… (Photos and text by Florina Luput)
The field that stretched beyond the basalt stone houses attracted the strangers from the first glance and, on their way to the tidy rows of corn, the strangers managed to lure the kids. Behind them, like a bride's train, followed the dogs.
They all moved along the tall, yellow-tipped corn, with eyes dim from the dusklight and ears tuned to high pitched sounds.
For a while, the strangers set the pace and asked the questions. First, they uncovered the secrets of the village, then the secrets of the kids. They played in the green grass, caught imaginary flying balls, laughed at the kids' tricks and led them onward by the hand.
At the last crossroad before the cliff, the kids broke free from the strangers' grip and forced the pace. They walked faster, and they talked faster. The bits of stories they chanted between giggles and cries spoke of a parentless world, of an endless road and a sunset as long as a lifetime. All around them, the dogs drew wide circles in their mad chase. The strangers exchanged quick smiles and, every now and then, checked their wristwatches.
The maze of children's voices and dogs' barks slowly covered their races, leaving behind a clear path.
On top of the hill, between two pine trees and without notice, the strangers turned into two heavy basalt stones. The kids began to carefully roll them back to the valley.
Down in the village, the parents and the police were checking every alleyway in alarm! (Photos and text by Raluca Furtuna)
The Bulb Collective consists of photographers active in urban (and rural) photography with an expressive shift to include highly aesthetic and poetic images in their assignments.