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When was the last time you truly drifted? Above the Făgăraș Mountains in winter, drifting becomes a state of mind. Seen from the sky, these peaks stop behaving like geography and start acting like memory. Snow folds over the ridgelines like linen on a long-forgotten table, and the sun, low and hesitant below the horizon, draws a thin golden incision across the world, as if reality itself is being gently opened. It feels less like Romania and more like the inside of a half-remembered dream you wo

Have you ever been met by a woolly wall? A compact phalanx of sheep slides over a hill entombed in virgin snow, the landscape hushed as if someone pressed a thumb against the mouth of the world. Snow keeps falling, indifferent and bureaucratic, while the flock advances like a single breathing thought. This is Romania at its most honest: cold, taciturn, and unconcerned with your expectations of beauty. These hills have been negotiated for centuries by hooves and stubborn men wrapped in wool and s