The Chronicles of a Memory Cartographer: Lake Tarnita

Outside, the first bells ring through the valley, signalling not only another day, but also the pressing weight of what lies ahead. After breakfast, I slip on my jacket and gather the day’s documents:CYcrds identification, clearly visiblefresh grant letters bearing European emblemsa thick folder filled with signed permissions from museums, schools, and council offices—thanks, naturally,…

The Chronicle of a Memory Cartographer: Romania

Stories and Suspicion at Europe’s Edge The journey carries us into Ružomberok. Hills close in—dark and wild, as if the old stories about mountain spirits and forest witches linger here longer than in other places. The streams are rowdy, climbing over their own stones, reminding me of tales where rivers could be both guide and…