The initial plan was to gather our pictures, us the BULB photographers, for paying tribute to the 30 years of the fall of the Wall.

Then this Wall-frenzy just washed away from the big picture. To the question why this happened, the answer has come up too easily, unforced, naturally.

There is nothing left, those memories are dead, unable to be recalled or rewritten. There is nothing left than pieces of cold concrete, no matter how much we try to complete the missing parts  and bring together the scars of suffering and the feelings of guilt.
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We have decided instead to join hands with those who still live behind walls, invisible ones.

Dobrogea, the Turkish villages … Tatar populations are inhabiting valleys and hills in perfect fusion with the land. Earth and dust colour their days, mist and grass blur their glances.

In perfect fusion, in perfect harmony, as long as they keep hopes, dreams and expectations inside the walls.

It’s a mystery to me how these images are coming out from nothing and they capture the photographers (it’s not the other way round).

Time is not a commodity around here, daydreaming is compulsory,  while back in the Metropolis half the dreamers have become corporate workers and the other half is hiding underground to avoid hedonism charges.

Faces are appearing and smiling for free around here, while back in the Metropolis equality has become exchange currency, and emancipation, a financial product.

Next time that you will be travelling to the Black Sea, leave the highway, follow the damaged roads and you may be touched by Gods!