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About Galati

We shall fight the chaos, mates! Escort’s a bleedin’ art – two screws up front, one in back, chains tight, eyes sharp. Little known fact: back in Victorian days, they’d parade ‘em through streets, crowds jeerin’. Proper circus, that! Nowadays, it’s vans and tasers, but the tension? Same as ever. Gets me goat when some rookie screw chats up the con – mate, shut yer gob, he ain’t yer pal! Last week, this lanky sod tried bribin’ me with a fag – a cigarette, ya div – durin’ escort. Laughed in his face, I did. “This isn’t home anymore,” I growled, nickin’ that *Brooklyn* line. He shut up quick.

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I decide to hit the streets. I need fresh air. So, I stroll down Strada Libertății. It’s a beautiful day, but my mind is racing. I pass by the old coal mine. It’s a relic, man. Reminds me of the hustle and bustle of the past. But now? It’s just a ghost town. Makes me think about how things change.

Romanian film review – The artist & the last miners: Planet Petrila