A young male nightingale settled in between the fragrant branches of the blossoming nectarine. He was not going to stop singing till finds his female match.
BURNING COALS AND ROASTED CHESTNUTS – project “52”
They called her Lolliphabai for “red apple” in Romani. But the only red she had were her plump lips. Her hair was char-black and wavy; her eyes were deep brown as the chestnuts she was roasting on the potbelly stove.
WHO FORGOT ODILE – project “52”
The tables were getting ready and butlers were overseeing the correct placing of plates, glassware and cutlery as the ball was to start soon.
ONLY ON MONDAYS – project “52”
Mondays were nonworking days.
The aged seamstress made sure that all garments were sewn, pressed and ready for her patrons before church time on Sunday...
BINCHOTAN CHARCOAL AND CALLIGRAPHY BRUSHES – project “52”
With no more time to waste, Takahiro grabbed an old sake bag kneeled down to the fireplace and filled it up with binchotan charcoals. They were just as good for keeping him warm, cooking with them or drawing, as well as keeping his water clear and pure.
HOMEMADE CULTURED BUTTER – MY HUMBLE “WELCOME” AND “THANK YOU”
Every summer my parents would take a four-weeks break and we would share this time in resting in the high mountains and fun on the seaside of Bulgaria.
RUSTING MEMORIES, KEYS AND EVEREST – project “52”
I gave you all the keys to my heart…
(strewn keys as riddle),
THE LEGEND OF THE TALKING TREE – project “52”
It was a simple tree, ordinary looking tree.
No botanist would stop and think an invisible dragon guarded it.
ANOTHER LANGUAGE, ANOTHER CHILDHOOD (…under some circumcisions)
A young and academically educated woman gets on a plane to fly more than 27 hours across the oceans to live with her sister in Australia.
APPETISERS, ANTIPASTO AND MEZZE or AN OVERTURE TO A BIG WINE OPERA
Bulgarians have few major seasons of celebration – when there is a wedding, a birth, a christening, a funeral and when a friend pops in. It is always observed with great care of marking the event.
ABOUT THE LETTERS
I don't know of other nation like the Bulgarian that celebrates The Pleiades of their enlighteners, their teachers, and educators.
INDIGO WASHI, RED MAPLE LEAVES, GLASS VASE AND PINK HIMALAYAN SALT – project “52”
Autumn sun was a wicked mistress – alluring and deceiving.
PAYDAY, SAKABUKURO AND BLACK RICE – project “52”
Yoshinori San hired his young neighbour Takahiro for the season of harvesting rice – a hard worker, didn’t talk much and easy to agree on any offer.
He paid him a bag of rice.
I'LL QUIT IT ALL, BUT NOW GET ME ONE LAST SMOKE – project “52”
Arh damn ya!
For god’s sake, somebody, get me some aspirin...
BREAK OF DAWN GREEN TEA, ABACUS, OWL AND OLD HEMP MOSQUITO MESH – project “52”
Takahiro was welcoming the daybreak with peaceful sipping of green tea. It was more religious ritual to him then the religious prays he will send to his ancestors in a wake up.
THE GREEK CONNECTION – MEANDER ORNAMENTS, WORRY BEADS AND ORANGE PEEL SPIRALS or THE PORTOKALI THEORY
I can’t tell you why I always think of Greece and my family in Edessa every time I have an orange in my hands. It must be the feel of sun and mesmerising aroma of scraped zest of orange skin… Or just the irresistible feeling that I have in my shopping bag a kilo or two of fragrant suns. Yes, the coupling of oranges with sun and Greece in summer is somehow an oxymoron on its own as this is a winter fruit. But I am happy to remember my visits at my Aunty Elpida in Greece at any season!
SAMSON, DELILAH AND THE OTHER WOMAN – project “52”
Standing behind him, she was resting her hands on his hair and impulsively patting the long blond locks that were streaming down his shoulders. He was staring in her face through the big barber’s mirror. His pupils – so wide open, one can’t understand if he was scared, angry or excited.
HUMPTY DUMPTY SAT ON THE WALL, HUMPTY DUMPTY HAD AN… ICE CREAM – project “52”
Perched on the dry stone wall, dangling her chubby legs, Amadea was eating slowly her ice cream on a stick.
Drips of melted icy delight were turning into a pond on the mossy pavers.
Drip-drop, drip-drop...
THE DEAD MAN IS OUR FOE NO MORE – project “52"
To all fallen solders who fought from the opposite shores and trenches during the WWI
BOUQUET OF GOLD AND LOVE – project “52"
He was sitting quite numb, absorbing the news for his second child.
It was a girl.
Another girl!