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About Bucharest

Gets me mad tho—people judgin’ her, callin’ her trash. Screw that! She’s out there survivin’, makin’ bank while they’re just whinin’. “Light filters through the leaves,” movie says—kinda like her, shinin’ through the grit. Surprised me how chill she was, tho—shared a smoke with some rando, laughin’ like life ain’t heavy. Made me happy, seein’ that spark. She’s a freakin’ legend, I swear—exaggeratin’? Maybe, but who cares!

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First off, I grab my gear, head down to the docks on Strada Libertății. The river’s lookin’ all sparkly, but I can feel it in my bones—today’s gonna be wild. I’m just a raftsman, ya know? Just me and my trusty raft, “Floater.” Yeah, I named it. Don’t judge.