When you look at Lacul Morii from a certain distance, you may get the impression of a Bruegel painting. A white surface and small human silhouettes engaged in some activities. You get closer and you see they are fishermen fishing on the frozen river; most of them by themselves, with no company, except for a bottle of vodka and a small chair.  There are also some men doing barbecue, a poet among them, reciting his satires. Wives are at home. The frozen lake is a man’s world.