ABRIGDED HISTORY OF RAZVAN MAZILU – ONE OF THE MOST IMPORTANT ROMANIAN CONTEMPORARY ARTISTS

Razvan Mazilu was born on the 21st of June 1974, in Bucharest. He began to study dance at the age of three. Even though at the beginning everything seemed just a game, the subsequent trace of the studies follows its natural course: he graduates the “Floria Capsali” Ballet Highschool from Bucharest (1992) and the “I.L. Caragiale” University of Theatrical and Cinematographic Art, the choreographic creation section (1996). At the same time he attends preparing courses and work-shops taught by the choreographers Josef Nadj, Christine Bastin, Dominique Bagouet, Gigi Caciuleanu, Rusell Maliphant.

Razvan Mazilu & Monica Petrica, foto by Egyed Ufo Zoltan

As early as the years of highschool, he became a soloist of the “Contemp” Contemporary Dance Company, first at the National Romanian Opera House, then at the Jewish State Theatre.

Since 1993 he has been the master of his artistic destiny, becoming a free-lancer, and he continued his career in a double hypostasis: that of an interpret and that of a creator.
Razvan Mazilu’s debut in choreography is marked in a spectacular manner by a few prizes obtained at the the national dance festivals: The Special Prize of the the jury for choreographic debut at the “Eurodans” International Festival from Iasi, The First Prize at the “Mihail Jora” National Festival, Bucharest and The Prize for exceptional choreographic debut awarded by the Union of the Composers, Choreographers and Musical Critics of Romania.

In 1994, his debut plays became television productions in the “Transfiguring” recital produced by TVR1, Romania’s main television channel. In

1995, while still being a student, Razvan staged at the National Theatre of Bucharest the first play fully belonging to him: “The Lady of the Camelias” . This production of theatre and dance, considered by the specialized critics a crossroads one, also meant the acquaintance with the actress Maia Morgenstern.

Further on, in 1995, the director Andrei Serban invited him – as a choreographer – in the team which was staging “Oedipe” by George Enescu at the National Romanian Opera House.

Razvan Mazilu continued his quests in the area of theatre – dance: “Talk to Me like the Rain and Let Me Listen to You” after Tennessee Williams, it was a new show and a first contact with the Odeon Theatre of Bucharest (1996).

In the same year, Razvan took part in the International Ballet Contest from Paris, France, where Mrs. Bernadette Chirac handed him The Prize for Interpretation of the National Opera House of Paris in a ceremony kept at the E l i s é e Palace .

In 1997, Razvan Mazilu was the protagonist of the first one-man-show of a Romanian dancer, “Playing Shakespeare”, in the choreography of Ioan Tugearu, played on the stage of the National Theatre of Bucharest.

Since 1998, he has begun a long lasting collaboration with the National Romanian Opera House as a g u e s t – s t a r i n “ A n n a K a r e n i n a ” ( 1 9 9 8 ) , “ J a p a n e s e Engravings” (2000), “Red and Black” (2001) where he had the main part, that of Julien Sorel.

An innovative challenge it the collaboration with the Romanian Opera House of Timisoara, which, in 1999 invited him to stage a new modern version of the ballet “Coppelia” by Leo Delibes.

One year later, Razvan Mazilu met again with the Odeon Theatre, as an artistic counselor-choreographer. In 2001, he directed a new show of theatre and dance, “The Blue Angel”, a personal version of the novel “Professor Unrat” by Heinrich Mann, and then he launched “Dance at Odeon”, a programme meant to promote the Romanian contemporary dance. As part of these productions, the young choreographers Claudia Martins and Rafael Carrico created “Bolero. I Lost the King”, played on Ravel’s famous music, especially for the personality of the dancer Razvan Mazilu.

Between 2003-2004, he came back as a guest star on the stage of the Opera of Bucharest for “The House of Bernarda Alba”, “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”, “Mephistopheles”.

In 2004, at the Odeon, it is staged the play “The Picture of Dorian Gray” by Oscar Wilde, in which Razvan Mazilu – performer of the main part and choreographer – appears in the stage direction of Dragos Galgotiu, one of the most important Romanian directors.

In January 2004, he was awarded by the president of Romania, Ion Iliescu, the medal The Cultural Order in rank of a Knight “for the whole activity and for the abnegation and the performing talent used in the service of the scenic art”.

The theatrical season 2004-2005 is extremely fortunate, including exceptional professional experiences: the DILOS Theatre of Athens, managed by Dimitra Hatoupi – one of the most important actresses of Greece – invited Razvan Mazilu to direct the musical “Marlene” by Pam Gems.

The season 2005-2006 brings Razvan Mazilu new challenges, building on his popularity and his status as a complex artist. He achieves a spectacular come- back on the stage of the National Opera House in Bucharest, with “Simphonie Fantastique”, a show of choreographic theatre signed by Gigi Caciuleanu, on the famous score of Hector Berlioz. At the same time, at the Odeon Theatre, the dance adventure goes on with an innovative show mixing contemporary ballet and Argentine tango.

“Un Tango Más” is a show signed by Razvan Mazilu, supported by director Alexandru Dabija. Faithful to his belief that an artist needs to constantly surprise audience and reinvent himself, Razvan Mazilu also tackles a totally different genre: cabaret. As the protagonist of the one-man- show “Sell Me!”, Razvan Mazilu dances in the unconventional space of an underground club.

The season 2006 – 2007 saw another fresh and contemporary approach to classics – the highly praised dance show BLOCK BACH, an urban saga exclusively on sacred music by Bach. Along with Razvan Mazilu, the reputed Israeli artist Amir Kolben was invited to complete the choreography of the show.

Another novelty of the season was the launch of DANCE ENERGY, international social responsibility project, initiated and coordinated by Razvan , in the benefit of the choreography scools in Romania. The first show of this project, ‘Razvan Mazilu and Friends’, gathered on the stage of the National Opera House in Bucharest major international and Romanian artists including dancers Talia Paz, Rafael Carrico, Claudia Martins, Adrian Stoian, Monica Petrica, actress Maia Morgenstern, soprano Felicia Filip, TV star Mihaela Radulescu and musicians Johnny Raducanu and A.G. Weinberger. The funds raised through this extraordinary charity show have been donated to the ‘Floria Capsali’ choreography high-school in Bucharest.

Through all his career, Razvan Mazilu has had collaborations with the choreographers Amir Kolben, Marc Bogaerts, Claudia Martins and Rafael Carrico, Gigi Caciuleanu, Ioan Tugearu, Florin Fieroiu, Alexa Mezincescu, Miriam Raducanu, Adina Cezar, Liliana Iorgulescu, with the theatre and opera directors Alexandru Dabija, Dragos Galgotiu, Andrei Serban, Catalina Buzoianu, Cornel Todea, Petrika Ionescu, Ana Margineanu, Anda Tabacaru-Hogea, with the set-designers Doina Levintza, Adriana Grad, Andrei Both, Dragos Buhagiar, Irina Solomon.

Tours in: Japan, Germany, Italy, France, Denmark, Greece, Switzerland, Israel, Russia, Egypt, Hungary, Slovakia.

INTERVIEW WITH RAZVAN MAZILU by Eva Defeses

“ I strongly believe in the versatility of the artist, it is a “must” in contemporary art “

Razvan Mazilu, foto by Egyed Ufo Zoltan

Eva Defeses: Although many critics have particularly underlined the perfect union between dance and theatre in the show Dorian Gray, if we take as a starting point the words of the director Dra- gos Galgotiu, who mentioned in an interview the connection between the world created by the fusion of these two art forms with the “visions of Caspar David Friedrich, the painter of philosophers”, we cannot help but noticing a way of construction similar to the act of painting. It is more than a simple logical deduction generated by the title of Oscar Wilde’s novel, your dancing moves on stage appear, when taken one by one, drawing studies, put to- gether by rhythm. Did painting play a part when you created the choreography for the show based upon the novel ”The Picture of Dorian Gray”, at the Odeon Theatre in Bucharest?

Razvan Mazilu: It is a very interesting question. I would like to say that painting is another passion of mine; maybe if I had not embraced the dancing, I would have painted. In a show like Dorian Gray, the pictorial side plays an important part, because it materializes on stage the epoch evoked by Oscar Wilde’s novel, as defined by the obsession for beauty, by the superiority of art over life itself. From this point of view, it was of utmost importance that all the elements of this show – from scenography and costumes to the harmony and gracefulness of the moves – should have a common element: an exacerbated aestheticism – taken to the extreme, I would say.

Eva Defeses: Shows in night clubs (Sell me!), sacred music (Block Bach), Argentine Tango (Un Tango Más), Shakespeare (a one-man dance show, impersonating four major Shakespearean characters in a one-hour performance), etc. are only a few of your projects which at first glance seem contradictory, comprising a great vari- ety of themes and styles. Yet your dancing puts them all together gracefully. What is the style that mostly attracts you?

Razvan Mazilu: At 14 years’ old, I discovered the contemporary dance. I didn’t know anything about it, but I had the revelation of the fact that I would perform contemporary dance and not classical ballet. I have chosen contemporary dance not because I couldn’t face up the demands of the classical ballet as many dancers do today. To me, dancing, as I understand it, is really an existential need, it is the way I express myself best. I like to experiment many genres, from contemporary to cabaret, to theatre-dance. I love the musicals, and I want to direct such shows. So, I would rather define my style as eclectic.

Eva Defeses: What does the theatre bring into this? Is there some- thing that cannot be expressed by dance and the theatre supplies it?

Razvan Mazilu: The very way that I dance is marked by theatricality; I tend to run away from the abstract. Moreover, I strongly believe in the versatility of the artist, it is a “must” in contemporary art. I became a director – choreographer at a very early age … at
20. Maybe it happened this way out of lack of self-conscience, or out of the strong need to demonstrate that I had something to say. Surely, at first, people look at you like you were a curiosity of nature, a freak; there is the prejudice that dancing is something frivolous, so how could I, a mere dancer, put together shows of theatre – dance? I held one man shows, but I also collaborated with important directors, whenever I received attractive proposals. I adore alternating between being a dancer and a creator of shows, and it seems to be very provocative to me.

Eva Defeses: Is there a book that has left a mark on you and which you would like to put on stage?

Razvan Mazilu: I would like to put together a show based on Death in Venice for instance, as it is a novel on the condition of the artist, about the quest for an ideal, at all costs…

Eva Defeses: You have been dancing since 3 years’ old. Who is the person who mostly stood by you on your journey on this “path” (as I know you don’t like the word “career”)?

Razvan Mazilu: It gives me a great deal of pleasure to underline whenever someone asks me this question, the important support I have received from my family, who knew how to cultivate, in an era that seemed completely fade, lacking perspectives of any kind, feelings such as beauty and sensibility. My parents and my sister understood my calling and helped me a lot. It is so important to be understood, to have someone there for you.

Eva Defeses: What is your relation with the actors you work with? Do you influence each other? For instance, in 1995, when you worked with Maia Morgenstern in “The Lady of the Camelias” you have managed to turn this working experience into a beautiful, lasting friendship…(This was the first dance-theatre show, ever produced in Romania)

Razvan Mazilu: My stage partners, actors or dancers, are of extreme importance to the show. I need to work with artists who complement me, whom I can communicate perfectly with, on stage, above any words. This happened with Maia, and I really managed to work greatly with her. Moreover, my encounter with her granted me cour- age. I was a student, at the beginning of the journey; she was already a famous actress. The fact that she put so much trust in me, that she took a great risk by joining me in “different” kind of shows, which had never been made before, meant so much to me. I would like to thank her again for that.

Eva Defeses: You have stated that you cannot dissociate Mazilu – the artist from Mazilu – the man. What has drawn you to Oscar Wilde’s character, so that we may know something more about the man, without forgetting the artist?

Razvan Mazilu: I grew up in a block of flats, in a neighbourhood of Bucharest, during communism. I had a happy childhood thanks to my family, but we all know what sad times those were. Don’t you think that dandyism, as represented by Dorian Gray, can turn into a landmark for a teenager yearning to live in another world, among beautiful things and experiencing special moments? I read The Portrait of Dorian Gray and it impressed me, than Craii de Curtea-Veche by Mateiu Caragiale. All these readings helped me escape from the daily reality, encouraged me to dream beautiful dreams. And I was hoping, in secret, to embody the character of Dorian Gray, on stage, a dream which actually fulfilled itself, almost 4 years ago.

Eva Defeses: Do you find yourself seduced more often by characters similar to yourself, or, on the contrary, is it more fascinating to in- terpret a character that you have nothing in common with?

Razvan Mazilu: I am crazy about constructing characters; it is as simple as that. The more difficult they are, the more provocative it is. Generally speaking, each character gives me the opportunity of discovering and re-discovering myself, of finding unexploited resources. To embody a character, to bring his destiny onto stage, to live through that character experiences that I don’t usually have in my daily life – this is what fascinates me.

Eva Defeses: What are your thoughts when you stand in front of the applauding audience for minutes and the public won’t let you go?

Razvan Mazilu: It is a very strange feeling, a feeling of grace, I’d say; I can’t say that I think at something in particular. I just enjoy the feeling that the audience and I communicate with each other, that we share a connection.

Eva Defeses: What question would you mostly like to be asked and nobody has asked it yet in an interview?

Razvan Mazilu: Difficult question. Maybe it’s precisely this question… But I am still looking forward to be surprised, with each interview. For instance, nobody has ever asked me: “Have you ever danced in a dream?” The answer would be: “Yes. Many times. Sometimes, I have the feeling I have never woken up.”

Eva Defeses: Dear Mr. Mazilu, it has been a pleasure and an hon- our to talk to you. Thank you for your time.

NIRAM ART wishes to thank Mr. Razvan Mazilu and Mrs. Toni Cojanu for their time and support and for providing the photographies that beautifully illustrate these pages.

THE DIVINE EUCHARIST OF ART – Bianca Andreea Marin on Razvan Mazilu

Somebody wrote to me, in 2004: “I went out last night with several friends. They talked a lot about love; each of them gave his or her opinions on this matter. I was the only one who kept quiet, with a tear trying to escape at the corner of my eye. It was clear, by the relaxed way in which everybody was talking and my impotence to utter one word, that I was the only one who loved somebody. I left them there and went out to get some air, to understand what cannot be understood, the heaviness on my chest, the melancholy of a far-away memory…”

Razvan Mazilu in Dorian Gray - Foto: Mihaela Marin

I have been trying for weeks to write this chronicle about the show “Dorian Gray” and have always failed, without knowing why. I couldn’t seem to find any suitable words. In front of true art, just as in front of true love, one should remain silent.

The same friend passionately believes that there can be no art without love. One can be a dancer, a painter, a writer, but without a true emotion inside one’s chest, without that burning fire, one can never be an artist. That is why there are so few artists in the world. There are many writers, dancers, painters, sculptors, but how many, among all of them, are artists? An artist is a creator.

This is the most accurate definition. How can someone create something without a genuine feeling of love?

It is easy to recognise a man in love just as it is easy to know when you are in front of a true artist. You feel it. Without any reasons, without any explanations, you simply know you are in the presence of something divine, as art is, after all, together with love, the quickest way in which a Man becomes a God.

Razvan Mazilu in Dorian Gray - Foto: Mihaela Marin

I met an art critic in Madrid who said she gave up writing about contemporary painting because nothing could impress her anymore. There is a general feeling that so much has been done in art. That all true art has already been created. And suddenly, out of the blue, somebody appears and changes all your previous per- ceptions and convictions. Pouring fresh blood on the altar-stage of the theatre, the dancer Razvan Mazilu can change your world in seconds.

We, the audience, experience side by side with him, the painful birth, the joys and sorrows of life, the excruciating death and the luminous resurrection of ART itself. With each new show, he re-invents ART. Is it dance? Is it theatre? Is it painting? Ballet? All words are poor. Language has been kneeled down. Words have become useless. A new language has been born, the language of motion and emotion, of colour and music. It is not a dance; it is life itself, the dance of the creation of mankind. Deep in your heart you feel, you know, that he is an Artist. Love is pouring down through him, out of him, with every drop of sweat, and I wouldn’t be sur- prised if his sweat, at the end of the show, were blood, not water.

The transfiguration of Man into the Divine. This is what attracts us to art, what leaves us bewildered and what seeds turmoil in our hearts. I could go on saying how beautifully this man dances, how versatile he is, how perfect his moves are. This all has been said before.

I don’t go to see Razvan Mazilu’s shows to see a dancer, not even to see the greatest dancer. I don’t go there to see a theatre – dance, a fantastic never-before-seen choreographic show. I go there to experience the transfiguration of the Human into the Di- vine. I see a Man, walking barefoot on an empty stage, just as walking onto an altar. He is both the priest and the sacrificed. Each move makes him sweat blood. Each move elevates him. He twirls,he falls down, he rises. The more he moves, the more he glows, as it is the very move that nourishes him just as the living water in our fairytales refreshed the power of the beautiful princes who strug- gled with the dark forces. He, too, struggles. He puts up a fierce fight against his own humanity. He rips his flesh out while we hold our breath, throwing away his sweaty, bloody, exhausted Human skin. The sacrifice is complete, the dance is over. The music stops. The figure who stands up in the midst of the howling ovations and the frenetic clapping audience is not a man anymore. He has gone to the other side as a Man and as a Dancer and has come back a God and an Artist.

The divine Eucharist of Art makes us all whole again, and puts a bit of hope in our souls. He has broken his body and gives it back to us in thousands of energetic particles. He has been through the torture of the artistic transformation and has crucified himself on its axes, dying on stage for all of us. Behold, he has risen in front of our eyes so that we may not lose the path. The path of true emotion, of art and love.

If you ask me about the dance of Razvan Mazilu, I can only remain quiet, with a tear trying to escape at the corner of my eye. All the rest is, as the Ecclesiastes said, “vanity of vanities”. Among all the mist and the vapour, the portrait of the true artist will never perish.

MAIA’S EMBRACE by Bianca Andreea Marin on actress Maia Morgenstern

Bucharest, November 2007

The train arrives in Bucharest at 10.15 a.m. The schedule is set, the maps are bought, the watch is carefully inspected for accuracy. The last train leaves at 11.45 p.m., and we have to be on it. The itinerary has been carefully planned by my husband, who was born in Bucharest, whereas I, an outsider, a province girl, have to trust his better judgement. However, we decide together on the theatre play we want to see. ‘You cannot come to Bucharest and not see a play,’ he says, as he is an absolute theatre maniac, capable of seeing the same play more than thirty times. ‘It has to be with Maia Morgenstern,’ I say, and he instantly agrees, ‘I want to see her live.’

Maia Morgenstern - They Shoot Horses don't they

I have been fascinated by this woman since I was a child. I remember whispering her name carefully, and wondering about its strange sounds. One night, my mother said to me that Maia Morgenstern was to perform on the scene of the small theatre in my native town. Her tone of voice gave me the impression that she was talking about the most impressive and wonderful thing ever to happen in our small town. It was the event of a lifetime. I kept her name in my memory for years, only to discover her later, in films, to reject or to adore her on TV, to let my eyes linger on her images in magazines, to let myself be conquered by the enchanting modulations of her voice when speaking in her native tongue, to ponder on her particular beauty, without ever resolving to myself the question: is she or is she not a beautiful woman?

He asked me whether I liked her. I didn’t know what to answer. All I know is that she seems to be a fascinating woman, a natural born actress, a mix of sensuality and motherhood, and the toughest person I have ever seen. I have watched her speak in many interviews, and she has always shocked me with sharp, harsh answers whenever she dislikes the questions, which cut the flowing of the interview like a knife. I fear her and, am attracted to her at the same time. Poor journalists who have to interview Maia Morgenstern!

We go straight to Laptaria lui Enache, to buy the tickets for the show which will start at 7 p.m.,“They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?”. Of course, nobody is there, and after a long walk on the streets of Bucharest, between Cismigiu and Stirbei Voda, we come back for the tickets. The elevator presents us with the strange reality of a communist relic: the elevator woman who is sewing a cloth inside it, sitting on a small chair, whilst her only job is to push the buttons between the floors, instead of letting the visitors do that by themselves. I almost want to take her picture. I think there are only 4 floors so her job seems even more ridiculous.

Maia Morgenstern - They Shoot Horses don't they

The place, the famous Laptaria lui Enache, disappoints me from the start: a dark, small room with a low ceiling, a claustrophobic cave. We arrive late, after walking for more than seven hours on the streets of Bucharest (‘You have to see this, and this, and that. You cannot leave without seeing …,’ my husband kept on dragging me, on the streets of his native town, my feet sore, my back aching, only granting me two short coffee breaks), and we cannot find front seats. The view isn’t great, the small, dark cave is full, people sitting everywhere, at the tables, on the tables, on the chairs, on the floor, almost entering the improvised stage. At a desk, at the back of the room, Maia is reading thoughtfully some papers. Our eyes are focused on her but we seem to be the only ones aware of her presence. The other people in the audience are drinking and talking, perhaps accustomed to her presence in a way that we can never become. She walks to the bar, gives directions, passes by us whilst we are both holding our breath. Nobody watches her, nobody bothers her. I look at her, and realize that I see her first as a Mother, secondly as a Woman, and only then as an Actress. And I am sure that she does all of them to perfection; she cannot be something without being that something perfectly.

At last, the show begins, and the nice lady at the desk transforms herself. She announces, in a voice of thunder that the dance contest is to begin, and that she is the Master of Ceremonies. She walks, she jumps, she cries, she moves, she dances, all with such a power and frenzy that our eyes are glued to her. Maybe the other actors are also good but they are swollen by the monstrous flood that has erupted on the small stage. Her black wig falls down in the frenzy, revealing her beautiful gray hair but she doesn’t seem to mind. She is not Maia Morgenstern anymore, a mother of three, a sensual woman, but MC, Master of Ceremonies of a barbarian contest. She is the Ultimate Actress. Tough, unjust, despicable, hateful, mean, arrogant, she is all that her director wants her to be, with a cruelty that makes my blood clog in my veins. The significance of her name, the flow of her energy makes me imagine her as a river. She is a deep, powerful river with blasting waves, during a howling hurricane, she is an icy blue ocean with rough-edged icebergs, she is the primordial feminine principle of the water that gives birth, in screaming pains, to everything. We all draw our forces from her.

The plot unravels in front of us and keeps on going. The tired dancers are sweating. I can almost feel their tiredness in my own hurt body, the sore feet, the torn muscles, the stiff joints. The pain. It seems to me that the entire day spent on the streets of Bucharest has only been a pre- figuration of this show, that the actors are suffering from the same pain as mine. The chair is uncomfortable, and I can’t move my back. I lack the forces to keep my back straight because of the stiffness of the spine and the pain but there she comes again, forcing me, forcing the actors, to stand up again, and again, to go on. She is torturing me with her torrents of energy as she is torturing the poor dancers. I close my eyes during the dance breaks only to wake up suddenly to the cry of her voice. She drains me of all my energy. We are all, audience and actors alike, a wreckage in her arms, pulled away by the flow of her waves. I am no longer in the audience. I am on the stage. My head resting on my husband’s shoulder, I feel part of the dance contest, slowly moving my tired, exhausted limbs, unable to utter a word against her. I haven‘t come to a theatre play that evening, I have become part of one. I have become one with the mass of speed-walking dancers who stumble and groan whilst their muscles scream in agony. Dancers fall to the floor, their limbs convulsing. The music won’t stop. We have to keep on going, her voice urges us, she has no pity for our glassy eyes and clenched jaws. She pours a bucket of water on an exhausted competitor.

Suddenly, she rushes into the audience and whispers something to a girl who is sitting at the table in front of us. I exchange glances with my husband: ‘What is this?’ He has no time to answer. She comes directly to us, embraces both our shoulders and asks me, looking straight into my eyes: ‘Would you like me to tell the man in the coloured shirt to come to you?’ I smile stupidly and utter: ‘No, thank you,’ and turn my head away from her glance. My only memory is the thought that she has such a tender smile. In the intimacy of the encounter, the river has turned into a peaceful, maternal spring. No, I haven’t imagined it. I am a part of the play. We all are, even if we don’t realize it. But SHE knows it.

Maia Morgenstern - They Shoot Horses don't they

Some pairs leave, others change their partners. One dancer collapses. In the midst of all this insanity, two people find a ray of love. A delicate, thin man with big, dreamy eyes and a dark-haired young woman who is the only one who dares confront the frightening MC. The end is near, the disillusion – great. There is no prize, the dancers have drained their forces for weeks for nothing, it is all a scam. I don’t have time to realize that the contest is over. I am still dancing, letting my husband’s body to support my trembling moves.

A blast startles me. The dark-haired woman is dead. ‘Why?,’ I ask. The fragile-looking young man answers me: ‘They shoot horses, don’t they?’

There is no curtain in Laptaria lui Enache. If it were, they would have had to lower it with me on the other side. After all, I have always liked horses.

The train leaves at 11.45 p.m. We say our farewell to the beautiful city, after a final walk on Kogalniceanu Street. We vow to come back to it one day: he loves this city, and I have fallen in love with it, too.