“There are places,” Camus writes, “where reason dies so that the truth of its negation may be born.” Let me pause for a moment, dear reader, so you can register that this thought was not penned by a Bulgarian. And then let me pause once more to add that what he says could…

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…

“When one morning Gregor Samsa awoke from troubled dreams…” “Wait, wait! Can’t we do something else today?” He tried not to show any signs of irritation, closed the small luxury volume — carefully tucking in the straw — and slowly lifted his eyes toward the camera. The face in…

The Children of Hans Asperger Life with Autism: A personal Story Today I begin a story which I probably regard – quite justifiably – as the hardest and most painful in my life so far: the story of the birth and upbringing of our two children, Paul and Lea Enev. I spoke with all…