A line in the dirt
At the end of a dirt road in a narrow valley in northeastern Romania, Niculina Lubiuc tugs and turns in an effort to lead a stubborn horse from field to barn.
She considers the snow that can cover her world each winter: "Wow. Wow. Until May, it can stay."
Lubiuc's son, Vasile, idles on a nearby step after another day at school. A neighbor banters from over a fence. They speak not Romanian, but an old Ukrainian dialect. The advance of Soviet soldiers in 1940 created a line, putting others from her culture in Ukraine, 10 miles north.
"The border changed," Lubiuc says, "and left us here."