Soferul -

I’m not just moving a machine. I’m moving time. From point A to point B, I am the master of their world. For those few miles, their safety, their punctuality, their very breath is in my hands. And when the door clicks shut and the tail lights fade into the dark, I’m alone again. Just me, the wheel, and the open road. Key Themes

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. 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. I’m not just moving a machine