Our final reading is from Gavril Marcuson, who was born into an upper middle class family in Bucharest in 1913. He served in forced labor during the war, and while most of his family left for Israel, he remained and worked for a Communist Party publishing house. Mr. Marcuson was interviewed  by Anca Tudoraneu in 2004. His story is read for us by Steve Furst in London.My wife Cornelia was a medical scientist. She lectured all over the world and was as fluent in English and French as she was in Romania. We had no children, and she died, quite suddenly, in 2000.The Romania we live in today allows complete freedom expression so yes, I’ll give mine. Ceauescu had to go, of course and I was glad to see him go.We had fallen so far behind and we’re still far behind, but he stood in our way.  What happened was inevitable. We simply had to enter Europe.Being part of Europe is a matter of life and death for us – our peace and prosperity are at stake.As for me, my life improved after 1989 and the fall of Communism. I was finally able to read the foreign press and as well as writers I couldn’t read before, and I could travel abroad – which I did almost every year, to the East and to the West.We could freely listen to BBC World Service, without it being jammed. Every night I would go to sleep listening to it , then turned on the radio first thing in the morning.Romania has always had problems. We still do, but I am moderately optimistic. We are, undoubtedly, on the right track. Of course, we may stumble from time to time, but it is on the right path that we stumble.Here in the Jewish quarter of Bucharest, I come to the synagogue from time to time, not so much at night. I am, after all, 92 years old. But I am a member of our Jewish community. They asked me to join. I didn’t blink. Of course.We have a very lively cultural life in the Jewish community. Well, this is Bucharest, after all. I go to our community center on Strada Popa Soare  every Sunday,-- in the heart of Dudesti and Vacaresti--and I eat in the canteen. And I chat with those of us who remember Bucharest at a time when it was so lovely. There aren't many of us left, of course, that's why we meet. You see, I remember that back then, Bucharest was a city full of charm, poetry and beauty.What I remember most from my childhood—our streets and houses used gaslight. There were street lamps. When it got dark, a lamplighter passed by, used a pole and very skillfully opened the little window to get to the lamp, and used a lighter to light the gas. In the morning, the same man came back to extinguish the lamp and then walked away.But I must be dating myself. They haven’t used those lights since the 1930s.