For me, the ‘90s were the most beautiful and also the most creative. My life changed due to the photos I used to take back then. We won’t sell our country were the words on everyone’s lips. Few have held it against me for ruining Romania’s image but I never agreed on this – I remember Pierre Cardin and Jethro Tull got involved at some point but none shared any interest. Searching through its own history as per feeding the emptiness of the newly discovered democracy, Romania lived its first transition years in a constant back and forward movement: a jump to the sky, followed by an abrupt fall into its doomed innocence. We ran on the streets, cried for the lost ones, we called for the mine workers, got our passports, our horses and carts back, we worked the field which turned us into prosperous beings and we rushed to the Sexy Club to watch the capitalism. Hurray for this, shame for that – all span in a continuous hysterical balance. One piece at the time the dream vanished away and we were left nothing else but to get our places back on the queues – this time not for Soya salami but for visas.