Fake clouds of hope

Фалшиви облаци се появиха тази вечер в небето над София. Обещаха дъжд, а не донесоха нищо – немощните светкавици не пуснаха поне за една свястна снимка. Кой ти мечтае за захлаждане… Сахарска жега и безсъници ни очакват още няколко мъчителни дни. Тази джанабетина “глобално затопляне” е в ход.

След 30 минути изпълнено с надежда висене на балкона, изпонахапана от комари и разни други буболечки, изснимала над 100 снимки, извадих само толкова. Време е за дъжд!

Well, these are just a couple of photos taken in а moment of ignorant bliss, when I was hoping that it was finally going to rain. Unfortunately, the clouds turned out fake and embarked on a journey home. No rain again. It’s +35 degrees Celsius and we are practically roasting in this cauldron of asphalt and concrete. Alas, no hope on the horizon.

Фалшиви обещания за дъжд

И една напълно фалшива светкавица


Before The End Of The World

It’s still morning! Thank God, it’s still morning!


I could hear many sounds, coming from various places, or were they in my head…? She must have got up rather early if the noise didn’t wake me up, though now I come to wonder if she had slept at all in that rainy November night. The room was empty, gray and squalid, infinitely grim and depressive…


“Wanna dance?” Her voice sounded as if coming from afar, so much so that it even gave me a start.
“Not right now, baby, a wee bit later, perhaps.”
“Promise?” Right there, right then, she looked like a kitten, begging with eyes to be taken home.
“I do…”


Still morning? Hadn’t the world plunged into an endless morning? I was listening to my favourite album and felt life running through my veins. I know that if I get up now, I won’t find her next to me. Merciless, I wrapped myself up with the duvet, wanting to drown the world out there in complete darkness.


Thank God, it was still morning – I had a whole day to find her before the end of the world.

Read in Bulgarian / На български

About Love

I realize it’s terribly tough and stupid to write about love. I’m alone now, and I want to have you next to me. I want to pull you beside me and slide and squeeze my legs between yours, while you’re sleeping peacefully. But this can never happen; as usual, you go to sleep much later than I do… why can’t you sleep?

I’m yearning to tell you, I love you so much. You are the woman, which I have always dreamt to meet. Not like some fuzzy idea… because I had never thought that the weird girl you are would ever make me fall in love with her. So far it all sounds pretty trite, I know, but you, too, know I’m no fucking writer.

Last night, was the last time when I bit my nails. Now I pledge myself, my soul, and honour to you – I shall do my best to never ever do it again. Never ever! Because you want me to be a stable man (what’s biting one’s nail to do with stability?!) and I know for sure that I want you to be happy more than anything else in the world.
Two more days and you’re coming back to me! (pause, to take a breath and relieve the tension). I’m getting used to sleeping on my own – alone – but again, I dream of the warmth of your body, rather – of the whole of you.

I can think of the moments when you pee while I’m in the bathroom too. You love to do this. You always do it, when I’m shaving and you think you can’t impress me. But you might have well noticed the pleased smile, watching you from the mirror from under the muzzle smeared in foam. The ripple of your pee is like a Buddhist mantra – it soothes me and fills me with a naïve childish bliss – that you should share something tremendously personal with me. As if you’ve shown me your doll’s house, which you so diligently took care of when you were ten.

I don’t know what love is, or what it looks like. Some say it’s pink, others – red; mine is wee bit different. It is lying on the beach, caressing your hair full of sand (because you love to dive to the bottom and plough it with your head), it is well fed, dozing in front of the TV set, or playing at the last version of Call of Duty, it is just a bit silly and irrational, a bit scared that you might abandon it like a poor kitten after great sex… it even hates you a bit, just a little, sometimes, when it’s fed up with behaving. Or something of the sort …

Bulgarian version / На български език