Soferul

The wheel is the only thing that stays still. Everything else—the flickering yellow streetlamps of the city, the silver blur of the rain, the faces that appear in the rearview mirror and vanish just as quickly—is a ghost.

The driver as a silent witness to human drama. Soferul

A sense of belonging to the movement rather than the destination. The wheel is the only thing that stays still

Being the master of the vehicle while remaining unnoticed by the passengers. A sense of belonging to the movement rather

The asphalt has its own rhythm. You learn to read it like a heartbeat. A slight vibration tells you the tire is tired; a change in the wind tells you a storm is coming over the mountains. They call me the driver because that’s the only part of me they see: hands at ten and two, eyes fixed on the horizon.