In June I met Pitic in Atelierul de Productie. I was pretty
thrilled to see him, to introduce him to my friends. They all recognized him
from the photos. He told me that he would like hanging us with us that night,
because he lived with his grandmother and couldn’t enter the house until the
morning; his grandma didn’t know about him going out. So Pitic joined us and we
went to a friend’s apartment, Ioana, where we ate sandwiches and sweets. Ioana
had a piano and apparently Pitic studied in a music school, so he and Ioana
played piano. He showed us some videos on YouTube with skaters and at about 8
am we all went home.
………………………………
For the next months I lost track of all those kids and all I
knew about them was from their Facebook statuses. They started attending
concerts, posting pictures where they all look more mature and they were all in
a relationship.
About one week ago, I met Pitic again, at Unirii. I waved to
him and he waved back, but I am not sure that he recognized me. It was then
when I understood that these kids are growing up and if a few more months they
won’t be the kids from my pictures.
I thought I should go back to the moments when I met them,
because these stories aren’t only about the kids, but mostly about an age,
about the moment before we grow up forever.
The first post will be about Robi.
The first post will be about Robi.
