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About Constanta

Clarice… she’s a ghost, y’know? Floatin’ thru life, half-seen. “A butterfly’s wings,” Bauby’d call it—fragile, flappin’ in the dark. Funny tho, she’d probly laugh at that—call it sappy. “Gimme a twenty, poet,” she’d sneer. Sarcasm’s her shield, I bet. Ever think how many’ve walked that path? Millions, probly—history’s littered with ‘em. Rome had ‘em, medieval towns too—hell, even nuns turned tricks sometimes. Shocked me when I read that—nuns! Wild world, Clarice…

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After that, I’m feeling a bit defeated. I decide to grab a coffee at my fave spot on Strada Libertății. It’s cozy, and the barista knows my order. I walk in, and guess what? They’re out of my usual! Like, how does that even happen? I’m about to lose it. But then, the barista suggests this new drink. I’m skeptical, but I’m like, “Fine, let’s do this.”

Siret Kotka to step down from active politics