Chasing Dracula at Tihuța Pass, one Saint Andrew’s Eve when the wolves are said to speak and the living seal their doors with garlic, I strode that winding road. Between Fiction and the Carpathians was born there, where the veil thins and the line between myth and memory fades.
Continue reading “Chasing Dracula at Tihuța Pass, Between Fiction and the Carpathians”Chasing Dracula at Tihuța Pass, Between Fiction and the Carpathians
