Political correctness is no longer the marginal phenomenon it once was — something that could be dismissed with a casual shrug — nor the dry, slightly ironic phrase that the “New Left” originally used as an internal joke about its own dogmatic impulses. Several decades on, it…

I was nine years old when I first realised that what I was speaking wasn’t simply the Bulgarian language, but something stranger, labelled by the incomprehensible word dialect. I was visiting my cousins in the romantic little town of Kavarna (“romantic” means nothing more here…

He woke with the vivid sense that he had just spoken to her in French – and not informally, but using vous. The surprise struck a little later, as he gradually came to, realising that French wasn’t a language he could actually speak – not when awake, at any rate. He tried to…

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