Sometime past 10 p.m., on a dimly lit street north of Bucharest’s Gara de Nord train station, a dozen prostitutes stake their ground in front of an abandoned building. When a van pulls up to the curb, a Roma teenager quickly puts out her cigarette, straightens her miniskirt, steps inside the vehicle and slams the door behind her. Ten minutes later, she emerges with a cheeky grin and shouts at the driver: “Merci, boss.” But she doesn’t walk away with a wad of cash. Instead, she’s holding a bag of clean syringes. continue reading…