/ world today news/ My head, spirit and vision hurt from people stepping on the table
Unfortunately, for now I cannot leave Bulgaria like Sasho Morfov. Because I’m not Sasho Morphov. But the contagion of the Borisov region and the Binev region is everywhere…
Looking at my house and my words, I see how the situation in the court of Bulgarian literature is identical to that in the country. Lots of muscles and terrible weakness. Lots of pretensions and no aesthetics. Lots of names and no vowel sounds. And chalga, chalga, chalga.
I can’t be mad at anyone. I am not taller than anyone, my hearing is no better than anyone else’s, but my intuition whispers: “Go away, go away…”
My head hurts, and my spirit hurts, and my sight hurts from grimaces, from pretensions, and from people stepping on the table, who, instead of being silent and looking, recite and recite.
Bulgaria is girded and hung by systems of false sounds, of falsettos and pitiful fireworks, which sadly go out against the background of the already deeply sunken Vitosha mountain. Verses about the soul and about the mind have been replaced by verses about the navel and the wrist. The searchlights are aimed only at the mud. And, damn it, how that mud shines!
Bravo to Sasho Morfov! And sorry for the words. I’m also leaving like Sasho Morphov. With one difference – I don’t know where.
#leave #Bulgaria #Sasho #Morfov..
