The Bulgarian countryside is very dramatic. Went to a fabulous church in the mountains today.
Category: Travel
A lesson in sleep
There is a book by the Austrian writer Gert Jonke where the main character begins to commune with the statues of Vienna, they ask him: what is this thing, sleep? And so he shows them; he sleeps for hours, days months… the statues watch. it evidently was based on a period of his own life …
Vitoshka lies in the sun
A day of catching up with a long walk along the promenade with the rest of Sofia on a Sunday afternoon. Mount Vitoshka, a big slumbering blue ahead of me as I go in search of the 13 Hundred Years Monument. it also fell victim to badly mixed concrete and is mainly armature now and …
The theater and its double
Saturday in Plovdiv: art festival, cobblestones, Armenian food, churches, mosque, cats, stray dog, and brides everywhere. In the ancient Roman theater a bride poses both for camera and video, her image enlarged and projected in the center screen like an enormous gladiator queen.
Through the Plain of Thrace
To Plovdiv with Luchezar Like a bullet, across the plain of Thrace, like a bullet. The Balkans, milk and honey,
Kievski Kotlet on Solaris
Verlangerter, a long coffee, with Milena at the cafe at the Red House Center for Culture and Debate. Talk of authors, New York, Archipelago, artists, spoke of a painter now using urine instead of paint. Noon at the Sofia City Art Gallery with Maria. Sitting in the City Garden behind the hotel drinking tonic water …
Here there be dragons
In the entrance a banshee screams into her cell phone. Her cries echo down the stone staircase and through the catacombs where the eyes of stoic saints stare out sadly from under their heavy lids. With bags and circles under dark eyes, they look as if they have stared for ages and that they long …
Mixed metaphors at a reading
After two introductions, the poet at last stands at the podium. The literati mostly listen, sometimes whisper, while others trace illuminati in the dust of the marble windowsills. His voice echoes down the long hall of the National Library, each phrase runs downhill, poetry is partially music after all, so that much I get out …
Heretics
Pop Bogomil… there are pigeons in my ceiling, there are bats in the cathedral,
When the sun shone brightest
“Traveling is real. Opening the door to all fears is real, even if what comes before and what comes after, the motives and the consequences, are not. To tell the truth I can’t figure out how it is that people can make the decision to travel. Maybe it would be helpful to to study the …