Author(s): Kapka Todorova, Zlatko Enev Today I read the following on Facebook — a typical Facebook post, written in typical Bulgarian: Kapka Todorova, Bulgarian journalist based in Berlin: Hundreds arrested and six officially executed — though the number of those killed in Iran…

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…

The sky over the city hung like old laundry, worn and faded from too much washing. A fine, sharp drizzle shaved the air; people scurried along, apologizing to one another when their umbrellas touched. The bloated, pretentious building — seemingly dulled by the constant roar of…

Köpenik, Berlin, the beginning of the new century „This isn’t you,” she said in a tremulous voice. „I don’t recognize you like this.” Regaining control, she repeated, „This isn’t you.” He flared up. „You, how do you know who I am? You think you know me so well? After a few…