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The Road to Ushguli
Svaneti

Awakening before dawn in our guesthouse in Mestia, I see that it has snowed in the night. The air had been very still, and in the misty light, every rooftop, tree and fence is outlined with a sparkling trim of purest white, piled with exquisite fragility atop every form, down to the smallest twig. Electrical wires, sagging gracefully from pole to pole, became fat white ribbons, snowflakes delicately placed a hand’s width high and narrow as the wire itself, a fine tracery that the slightest air current would surely destroy. …