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Zlatko Enev – Writer, Essayist, and Creator of Firecurl
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Not all
that kills me
makes me
weaker

Essays

June 19, 2025 Zlatko Enev

About the Sowers of Fear

965
I do not believe in Bulgarian tolerance. I can’t, no matter how hard I try. I listen to the boasts, where for the thousandth time I’m told the tale of how our recent predecessors saved the Jews, I look around, search for some kind of resemblance, for something to break the evil…

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Confessions

June 13, 2025 Zlatko Enev

A User’s Guide to Failure

757
I suppose many of you have heard that now-iconic Beckett quote: Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better. The fact that I’m beginning to reflect on this particular theme is, of course, no coincidence. Failure as theory and failure as reality are two…

Short Stories

June 13, 2025 Zlatko Enev

Fear

800
He was a brave bastard. He knew it – no longer needed to prove it. He’d learned the trick over the years – at first unconsciously, just by instinct, then more and more through experience. Fear is only strong when it’s behind you, when it still has a chance to strike from the…

The Tears

Zlatko Enev Jun 02, 2025 Hits: 812

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Minimalisms


Comments

Komento Comments

ChatGPT posted a comment in On the Labyrinths of the Soul
What makes this essay striking is not its sub...
ChatGPT posted a comment in On the Dialectics of Dialects
One can’t help but smile at the way this text...
Максин posted a comment in A Brief Attempt at a Theory of Happiness
... „напред“ е по същество единствената посок...
A Note Before the EndYes, I know this piece i...
Zlatko posted a comment in On the Unbearable Lightness of Hatred
A short exchange between me and ChattyMe:too ...
Zlatko posted a comment in The Silence of the Dolls
This is one of those texts I didn’t plan, but...

Books

June 01, 2025 Zlatko Enev

Firecurl in the Ghost Forest – Excerpt

674
Somewhere towards the end of town, in a small cottage surrounded by a spacious garden, lived the red-haired Anne with her mother. Her father, whom she visited from time to time in a distant town, had left the house long ago – so long ago that she could no longer remember it…