I was born on 13.11.1956 in Mandrica, Ivailovgrad region. Bulgarian, they say. Scorpio. (Are there still people who believe that one-twelveth of the people in the world are similar to each other?). I doubt it.

Due to the fairly mobile and adventurous spirit of my dear parents, I have lived somehow scattered around all the corners of Bulgaria: in Dimitrovgrad, Vidin, later – hereditary I think – in Smolian, Vraca and Sofia. It was interesting of course, but somehow rootless.

Now I spend my time divided between the capital Sofia and a small village in Rhodope Mountains, where I am a proud owner of a villa. I am not going to mention the village’s name, in order to avoid mass scenes of wine drinking and Rhodopean songs. Not that it is a bad thing.

I have completed the so called higher education at the Sofia University „St. Kliment Ohridski“ – Bulgarian philology. Naturally, out of love for literature, not to say aberration. And with the heroic thought that sooner or later, I will become a great writer.

Sooner? Or later? When?

In my wish to shower myself with life experience and wisdon (come on, now!), I have worked all sorts of extraordinary jobs. Actually, I had started those jobs due to a simple bread deficiency, because after my father’s death – he died when he was 33 – the shelves at home somehow became empty. I have been a truck loader (a prefessional one), a builder, a site manager, a mechanic, a skilful producer of the sad Vidin-brand car tyres, a newspaper contributor, a publisher. All sorts of jobs.

I assure you, that was extremelly useful.

At the moment I am an owner of a publishing house and my hair will soon go white because of it. Otherwise, I write. Prose. In a moment I will wave my magic stick and will show you parts of a few books that I have suffered in the last 15 years. (It’s not such a strong word – which one? – because writing prose requires hard work, sitting, groaning and so on.)

Moreover, here I would like to firmly declare, or shout out if that’s necessesary, that authors are extremely eased by modern times. There is no need for them to pretend being national leaders, to speak in a loud voice and wave flags. There is no need for them to be edifying and didactive.

They do not need a teacher’s stick. From them is required one very simple thing. They need to get to know that strange animal – the human, to understand its exsitential needs and eternal questions and if possible to „translate“ with clear examples a few important answers. Or at least to show their exmple in a way that will intrigue a few distinguished literature fans, make them think and make them even more persistently ask the question „why am I alive“.

In my opinion, five people are absolutelly enough.

And while I am saying hello – to all five of them – I remain your delighted fan. You know why.