Ptuj’s Attics, Bells, and a Mask Maker’s Wink
Up creaking stairs, a craftsperson lifts a half-finished Kurent mask, its wool wild as February wind. She describes how laughter protects a town, how cowbells on wide belts wake spring from stubborn sleep. You try on a fragment of courage, then sip wine downstairs while church bells test the evening. The mask maker’s wink becomes your passport to understanding festivals as living, generous homework.