I’m starting yet another short essay with a familiar mix of feelings: some pleasure, and – inevitably – some tension. The pleasure comes from the discussions that sometimes arise here. However incomplete or misshapen they may be, they remain one of the few genuine rewards for…

My father, my most beloved Bulgarian, died a long time ago, on his feet. In this way he gave his sons a final – and perhaps most important – example, but that is not what I want to talk about. My old man, Mitko Enev, died trying to reach the top of the stairs, where an ambulance…

The sound of the footsteps – dragging and slow, like someone shuffling their heels across the floor – was driving him mad. Every time they came from above, he would change rooms: from the living room to the kitchen, then through the dreadfully creaky glazed door into the small…

This essay offers a raw and compelling chronicle of one family’s life alongside autism — not as an abstract diagnosis, but as a daily, intimate reality. At its centre is Lea, the daughter of the narrator, and her unique way of experiencing and responding to the world. Through…