I want to begin with a story I would rather not recall too often. It was 1984. I was twenty-three, a philosophy student in the capital, travelling back to Preslav for one of the holidays. I was weighed down by a tangle of thoughts that felt literally impossible to share. The…

Have I ever told you my own theory about the inverted perspective on happiness? It’s simple, and sounds eccentric only at first hearing. People my age, I suppose, are well acquainted with the empirical side of the matter, even if perhaps less inclined to generalise as generously…

Good evening, dear sir – would you permit me the modest pleasure of your company on this grey and rather unpleasant Berlin night? One rarely encounters countrymen here, and if one does, they usually hurry to turn into the nearest side street – most often out of embarrassment…

Beyond the ruined Park lies the Desert of Ghosts — a wasteland where the sun burns the ground white and the nights chill the bones.