“Noticing boulevards, gardens, big buildings in Bucharest, a Frenchman sees here a smaller Paris. Despite this, the impression stems from a fallacious reasoning. The pluvial gray of Paris, the refined baroque, the typical crowding of thousands of flues above the attics have nothing to do with the summery candor of Bucharest, a city of dust in the Baragan plain, with white acacias and little white churches.”