"The wind from Sfiștofca rustles the stories of the past, of ancestors, of dance, of song and wine, of many people, of frosty winters, of recent past, of how everything grew silent, in the meantime, as if in a moment.
The village, which Mircea has explored extensively – as if feeding on it – has a wide high street, walked by one man at a time, from time to time; and smaller ones, some of which lead nowhere." Ioana Bursan Savin
