the baffled king composing

Thinking of one apartment I had in Bucharest -- located off of the oldest street in the city, broad, tree-lined, many businesses, few tourists (like Belgrade's King Alexander as opposed to Mihail).  Easy walk to both the opera house and the mall, plenty of bakeries in a short walk, famous municipal theatre around the corner near the embassy district towards Piata Romana -- I saw an interesting and authentic Measure there -- among the more expensive tickets of the peregrination, almost $20.  Large German grocery easily walkable.  In sum, convenient and interesting.  The name of the national 19th c. poet was written autograph-style across the electrical feeder box in front.  Obviously not by him, but one of his descendants was a minor poet under the regime, and on investigation, I found that he had lived not far away.  I broke my rule of keeping low key around the neighbors of the short-term rental, and asked a few folks in front about it, who professed no knowledge, and considerable doubt as to the minor-poet-theory.

But the fact that it was there opened my eyes to the neighborhood, one of the more prestigious areas under the regime, interesting modernist architecture now gone slightly to seed.  A bit like the two old socialist shopping centers that I lived nearby at various times in Belgrade, (Kumikevo Sochache?) and a very large concrete arcade in New Belgrade.  Especially to a Westerner, it's odd to see these high-status places from socialist times.  The general notion here was that it was all Brutalism and true puritan believers in the road to socialism --  and the dissentients, who were relegated to poverty.  Apparently not the case -- the times had their proper grandeur, no matter the economic/social system.

From time, I wonder if I might have been more able to work under societies like those.  Times and places with a stronger civilizational context, as opposed to people getting away with whatever they could, and as much money as they could (e.g., our current Leader).  Even now, I would jump in a heartbeat at the chance for some Brutalist concrete rooms that I could fill with philosophy paperbacks, a camp bed, and a table and chair.  And a kitchen.  From time to time, I've been able to have that, and it has been productive.

Hope springs eternal.  (Even among folks with a few graduate degrees and decades of experience -- in the free-for-all fairground money-grab of present times.)