Just take a walk from one bus stop to another trying to focus on buildings. If you’re in an eclectically stylized city as Bucharest, you will nonetheless notice the multitude of decorations. They are anonymous. Their charm is stroking, yet subtle. Maybe you imagine the process of their making or just have precise information about it. Decorations are independent and, in a certain direction create a path or understanding people’s way of signing a place without frontal authorship. Only few modest houses in Bucharest have the same friezes and mascaron faces, the rest is rich and diverse as leafs of a tree are. Sometimes you perceive pastiches, the more conspicuous mark of an assumed author, but most of the time you have the feeling they are part of the (a) nature. Architecture is not the only test of the binomial relationship between authorship and autonomy. There you have design and machines. The life of objects is fascinating. It’s in the same time independent and the consequence of a will. It is also incidental, accidental and absurd.