It was the first thing I noticed.
Coils of wire, wound round the pillars or left hanging like drying pasta, new over old ones, tangles, sherds, skeins...
We always though of them as of a cross section through suburban (and urban) Bucharest.
For the simplicity, with which kilos tele-wires were hanging from each lamp post, I couldn't help but get a glimpse on the life, tangled in them.
So, here I was, wondering around the quiet street, with a full-size tele lens, taking pictures of people's windows and garden gear.
Undecided of one style, on it's way 'West' Bucharest appears to be a selection of modern villas, varying in shape and size. No 'dream neighbourhoods', cut out of a real estate add. With frequent constructions and the relaxed life of a southern city, Bucharest always moved.
Like the coils of wire, it was messy but charmingly complex. Christmas lights and garden Santa's left up till August, turned upside down lanterns, people used to hot and long sun, walking in slippers on the batted asphalt.