Swamp
Photo: Ileana Johnson 2015
The first Americans I’ve met, Pam and her husband James from Chicago worked with my dad at the refinery. He was an engineer from a small family and she followed him to this God-forsaken country where everyone seemed to be a prisoner. They appeared friendly in a plastic way, smiling all the time for no apparent reason, totally unconcerned about the misery of the oppressed Romanians around them, barely surviving under communism. Continue reading