There are weekends when I feel like I`m missing out if I don`t go out and explore the city. But then there are also times when all I wish for is a lazy day at home with a good book. Such as this past Sunday.
“Casele vietilor noastre” (“The Houses of Our Lives”) tells the story of some of the old villas in Bucharest (and not only) from the perspective of those who inhabited them at a certain moment in time or are still inhabiting them.
Each house has its own story, which is shared with us by its own author – the inhabitant – in a most nostalgic and personal way. Stories about families, friends, lovers and neighbours are easily brought to life and the streets of Bucharest suddenly get a new meaning.
„Rare are the people of a single home, just as rare as those of a single love! Most of us move for several times during our life and, from one home taken with us on our first departure, we end up – after a long pilgrimage throughout the big wide world – carrying a little city within ourselves, one full of stories, such as the the city built up by itself in the pages of this book.”
That is why “The Houses of Our Lives” is so special. It is not as much about arhitecture and history as it is about transformation, about coming-out-of-age, of people and homes alike, about inevitably growing up and falling out of a time when it all made sense and into a reality which is most of the times cruel. Especially when these houses, with very few exceptions, are now in decay.
I must say I had to leave the book down for a couple of times and simply look around my living room. I was once again made aware of the special bond between human and space, the subtle way they shape and influence one another.
And I felt grateful for having this house in Amsterdam as my current point of pilgrimage.