OCTOBER 13, 2003—BUCHAREST
Three months into production, Murch is working 12 to 14 hours a day, six days out of every seven. But he faithfully takes an eight-mile run once a week, on Sunday, his one day off. He throws a coin onto a city map, then heads off in that direction from the hotel. Bucharest is a wonderfully strange city, with much to take in, so he brings along two tools of the trade: a digital still camera and a microcassette audio recorder. Today, a fine fall Sunday, is particularly plentiful:
October 13, 2002, Murch’s Journal
Good Run out Plevnei Boulevard to the pedestrian overpass ...