Невъзможно е да се пише за Кейт Буш – това е по-абсурдно, отколкото да пишеш за Ботев. По-подобаващо ще е да занемееш, да занемеем, за да можем да слушаме, за да можем да чуваме. Когато си помисля за Англия обикновено […]
Птиците разкъсват крилата си в небето. Времето спира в албума със снимки и търсим себе си. Ние сме окото на бурята в новите текстове на Диана Тенева на апокалиптичните страници с източно изложение на списание „Нова асоциална поезия“. Александър Арнаудов […]
Speaking languages from past lifes, going backwards towards your homelands, finding yourself into mountains…and into someone’s eyes. Native language! The language of your soul. Read it in new poems of our distant friend Stanislav Li. Iva Spiridonova ~ * east […]
In the last days of summer we fall as sand castles in the mercy of waves. Only the pale mornings hide behind our sunglasses. Finally we pull the curtain of the fog in the newest haiku of Dilyana Georgieva. Alex […]
Our state of the soul can only be described in words of life and death. On the rim of our thoughts we are forced to keep the nightmares on leash. Finally we make up time in Boriana Bogdanova poems to […]
We gently invite the night into our minds with every verse. After the darkness we can finally meet the sunrise at the bottom. Then our shadows become different as we wait in the silence full of emptiness. Welcome the dark side […]
We pick the flowers with pure hearts. However the elexir of life froze in the winter of our hearts. Then we need to wait for a brighter morning that can be found in the distance of Vessislava Savovas’ haibuns. Alex […]
The soul of God is like a silent flower after ressurection. Then the soul becomes pure only after the denial of thoughts. We discover that we are only a candle praying in the rain in the newest translations of Bozhidar […]
Love is a methaphor that creates the shape of our hearts. All words breathe but we need only one to live with. Thus the curves of emotions bring us together as we try to find out if we are alive. […]
„If I can give any stylistic definitions of my writing in cactus, I think I’ve always been looking for words to pour out of me just as musicians play jazz. I wanted the naivety to be radical, as in one […]
