Chisinau exists as a city of shadows of the people’s memories, hopes, and dreams. Its mask is taken off during a foggy morning, when the city shows its real face. After three or five hours, we can see the lights of the sun on the roofs, and cold shades of grey turn to a rich palette of iridescence.
People can’t live side by side in this city. When you step out of the system, you must create your own system where you feel utterly insignificant. You don’t matter to the state and the state does not matter to you. You’re left wondering only about the present.
You can’t see yourself in someone else. There is no one next to you in the city. It is just you. Your only way of creating a connection is by framing two isolated souls through the lens of a camera.
When you look over the city, you can see a string of city lights where you imagine people are happy and maybe even waiting for you. But that is a distant prospect. It is just the lights fooling you.
Chisinau is merely a town like any across Europe, where simple and complex lives exist. The sadness is just a little more condensed. The city of my modest dreams, it is.