Skip to main content

Not all
that kills me
makes me
weaker

Essays

June 15, 2025

Clash of Civilizations – Reality or Media Myth?

1108
Author’s Note (2025) This essay was written in April 2007, at a time when the discourse around global conflict, terrorism, and identity was shaped by the immediate aftermath of 9/11 and the Iraq War. I’m publishing it now not because I still hold every word to be true, but…

Latest


Most read


Most commented

Confessions

August 09, 2025

A Brief Attempt at a Theory of Happiness

1573
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…

Short Stories

June 15, 2025

Everything You’ve Always Wanted to Do but Were Afraid to Try

1095
“Hello…” Even in this most neutral of phrases, her voice somehow managed to sound drawn out and inviting – or openly seductive, depending on the interpreter’s imagination. For a moment, he considered telling her what he had just been doing five minutes ago with the thought of…

Newsletter

Minimalisms


Comments

Komento Comments

M. K. posted a comment in The Yellow Eyes of Horror
What bothers me here is how everything feels ...
Georgi P. posted a comment in The Man Who Defied the Maelstrom
I’m not convinced. The text is intelligent, y...
@latent_vector posted a comment in The Man Who Defied the Maelstrom
What strikes me most is not the defiance, but...
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...

Books

June 01, 2025

Firecurl in the Ghost Forest – Excerpt

1038
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…