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About Constanta

Oh, and once—true story—I met this ex-escort driver at a pub. Chain-smokin’, twitchy fella. Said he drove some popstar who puked glitter in the backseat. Glitter! Cleanin’ that’s a nightmare, I’d be fumin’. He laughed, tho, said it beat drivin’ taxis. “Holy Motors” energy, mate—every night’s a new role, a new mess. Gotta love the madness, or you’re screwed.

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First off, I roll into town, and it’s like, “Whoa, where’d all these people come from?” I mean, I’m used to the quiet hills, not this hustle and bustle. I park my old truck near the Castelul Corvinilor. That castle is somethin’ else, man! It’s like a fairy tale, but with more pigeons. Seriously, those birds are everywhere. I’m dodging them like I’m in some weird video game.

Ground plan of Corvin Castle by Franz Neumann, Publicationen der Wiener...