The incident lasted for a few months: there were interrogations, repeated searches at home, discussions at the party headquarters and at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs; they sent him to the construction site at Zimnicea, though he had worked as a diplomat for years. Things were solved by an intervention of UNESCO at a top level. During that time, knowing that I was a good friend and that I visited him the Securitate agent of the Institute came and insisted that I should persuade my friend to accept the suggested positions, to make him change his mind and more important to report about my discussions with him.  I had to appeal to my ability of not saying anything, relying on the not very bright intelligence of the agent. (A. M., 9)

There was an obsession that people were constantly supervised.  This was the greatest obsession. There weren?t any small obsessions. There were worries, so people did not have obsessions.  They had worries, I am telling you. Will I find potatoes tomorrow at the market? Will I get to buy meat in the evening when I get home? Will I get in time to have a warm shower? These were daily worries. To be obsessed by this was disease. The only obsession that influenced our mentality was that we were all followed by Securitate. In fact, that?s why they blamed Securitatea after 89. Because of that. Those who were guilty and had been followed started to shout after 89. The most eloquent example is Ticu Dumitrescu. The only men who was sensible about it was Coposu, he kept silent. Yes, he had been to prison, that?s true, but he was a reliable man. (I. H., 29)

I used to pass every morning by Calea Victoriei on my way to work. The ? blue eyed boys? had their fixed positions. I had started to smile discretely at a young man that I saw daily in front of the Academy. He smiled back. They were agents dressed as civilians, apparently unarmed, protecting the ? route?, the way the presidential convoy passed from Bulevardul Primaverii to the Central Committee. They were believed to be orphans recruited from orphanages like the janissaries, totally devoted to the comrade and his lady. They were part of the landscape.  One of them came to the library of the Art History Institute and asked ? the Gazziette?. Invariably. It was the ? Gazette of Beaux- Arts?. My wife asked for his ID. Which one of them, I had many, the boy answered. She asked him about his job. Which one of them I had many. The Director who was afraid, tolerated him. (7)