Sheet 01
Romania from the wheel
This country does not fit in one square. You cross it by car, and what stays with you is the ring, a village, and a pass where the engine changes its note.
The country is the drive
Morning starts between blocks of flats, a truck braking at every signal. An hour later the same road has poplars along it and a strip of maize running to the hill.
There is no single place where you can stop and claim you have seen the whole. You get pieces, and the pieces connect only if you stay on the road between them.
From boulevard to chapel
Bucharest takes the car onto a wide boulevard, trees cut to one height, a tram down the middle. Brașov takes it under the mountain, into a square that cools the moment the sun drops behind the ridge.
Farther on, the carriageway narrows toward a white chapel and roofs of tile. At the other end the delta begins, and the asphalt stops.
Sheet 02
The national road
The city is still in the mirror when the ring straightens. By late afternoon the cab smells of hot dust and wet stone, and you have stopped once for a coffee whose name you will not keep.
- 01Leave the city on the ring, out to the first village.
- 02Climb the pass in a low gear, wall beside the glass.
- 03Stop in the village, beside the white chapel.
