Here is the continuation of the story of my grandmother, Aurelia, her years in Bucharest, could she really have been the secretary of a Romanian prime minister in late 1930s and what sort of war did she have

This is the story of the early years of my grandmother, Aurelia and what the many photos of her tell us about growing up in the interwar years in a prosperous but war afflicted family in a southern county in Romania, when many things were new from wearing trousers to girl guides.

This is the story behind an unexpected letter in a school record and how my dad's side of the family used a pretend adoption to survive and get ahead in Stalinist Romania.

This is the story of my paternal grandad, his years in the communist labor camp and how he sweared at the party officials and got away with it

Here is a story about my dad, Alexandru and what I have discovered about him long time after he was gone and what, I am sure, he did not realise himself.

This is the story of the very humble beginnings of my maternal grandfather and how he had the luck to cross paths and get help from a family that was culturally and politically significant for Romanian history.

As a child, I spent time staring at walls for reasons that will be explained. These are the more interesting and beautiful things that I spent a long time looking at.

This is the story of the only priest in my extended family, my great-great uncle and the special gift he gave to my parents after performing their marriage ceremony.

There is more than meets the eye in this street photo from 1935.

This is the story of one of the most influential person of my early childhood and the all the lovely things I got from her

This is the story, both inspiring and tragic of my great-great aunt Flora, midwife in Bucharest between the two world wars and how one of her creations take pride of place in my home.

This entry contains fragments of letters of timeless and beautiful wisdom, written by my great-gradmother Constanța for her teenager granddaughter.

This is the story of my great-grandfather, Pârvu, his schooling at the beginning of the XXth century, the textbooks he left behind and his tragic death in the first world war.