Category: I remember.

The last years the list of the contemporary music artists who I really want to see live gets shorter and shorter for different reasons: age, taste, time.. Nevertheless, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds always remained in my personal must-see top 3. Thanks to a dear friend of mine, this dream became true. A couple of days ago, I went to a Nick Cave gig for the very first time.

There are some moments from that evening, which I wouldn’t like to forget so I will try to capture them in words.

It’s Nick Cave’s long dark silhouette, silk suit and golden shirt. It’s his obligatory strange and exciting dancing and pointing with the finger (watch a video from a live performance of “Red Right Hand” and you’ll get the picture).

It’s Warren Ellis. It’s Warren Ellis and his eccentric music genius, his violin, and the stillness and power of his stage presence. It’s Warren Ellis and his beard and hair (!).

It’s the piano performance of “In Your Arms”. I don’t dare question the existence of love after that. I honestly don’t.

It’s the songs from the new album “Push the Sky Away”. It’s “Jubilee Street” and “We Real Cool”. It’s their deepness and comfort. It’s that line: “Who wrote you a book you never read? Yeah you know. “

It’s the old songs. It’s their madness and strength. It’s them murder ballads.

It’s “From Her to Eternity”. It’s the song that sings the city I live in. It’s the song that tells the story about a girl. And about angels.

It’s the honesty and the light of that concert and I dare say of every other Nick Cave concert. You know it when you see the expression of his face when he performs. It’s painfully serious. As if he is pouring his heart out. And so do you in return.

It’s that concert of my favourite Prince of Darkness and that night in Paris I wouldn’t like to forget. Never was the darkness so bright.

—

With many thanks to my dear friend Plamena Karaliyska who made that night and memories possible for me.

It’s one year today since I moved out of the city, which was my home for 28 years.

I remember the day very clearly. It was a beautiful sunny afternoon in Sofia and I went out on the balcony holding my 12-year young cat boy Misho just to see the view from our fifth-floor apartment for a last time before the flight. And I started crying. I knew that this is inevitable. I was closing a page of my life for good and was about to open a brand new one. Something I wanted to do so much for two years.

With two suitcases and all the enthusiasm I am capable of, I moved to the place, which even before visiting, I knew I would want to live in one day. And this city of angels (the European one) never disappointed me. It provided me space and time, as I felt it, for whatever I wanted to do.

One year later, I am almost at the end of a masters programme, which I never planned doing. This completely emotional decision turned out to be one of the best I have ever made.

For a year I haven’t been employed full-time, which automatically makes me poorer but also lighter and more enthusiastic about all the great and meaningful things that could be done and that I could possibly do and still pay my bills. An enthusiasm I missed in my full-time job for four years.

One year later, I feel more myself than before. I dare to dream and do more (this blog is one example). I write for the first time in my life and never go out without my camera. I believe now that more things are possible then I used to.

Happiness is one of those indescribable things. But being also something very personal, I will try to describe it, as I feel it. It’s that feeling when going to bed you can’t wait to wake up the next morning to do whatever you are to do. The feeling of not knowing what is around the corner of the street but being excited to go there and see it for yourself. Happiness is a very silent and almost invisible feeling. You just feel calm. I remember feeling like this a few times last year. Being inexplicably, sincerely and silently happy.    

…

These are pictures taken from the windows of my three homes so far in my life:

Да. Любовта е измислена и невъзможна. Тя ти спира дъха и те хвърля на непознато място. Кара те да я измисляш, за да можеш да я пипнеш. В определен момент от живота си, сутрин се будиш до нея. И когато срещнеш нещо красиво, за нея се сещаш първо. …Но най-вече – любовта се изплъзва от думите. Протегнеш ли ръце към нея, тя се плаши и изчезва. И всички малки неща, те са за нея. Всичко, което имаш да казваш. Цялата поезия и тъга.

(Ето колко е важна.)

Ходя на един фантастичен курс по немски, в който се занимаваме с немското кино от създаването му до сега. Гледаме филми и след това ги обсъждаме. Групата ни е от хора от цял свят – буквално. И това е прекрасно. Миналата седмица нашият аржентински колега, който носи цялата топлина и спонтанност на тази далечно-близка страна (и естествено е много очарователен) ни разказа най-хубавия аржентински късометражен филм, който (не) съм гледала.

Мъж и жена стоят на мост. Говорят си.

• Мъжът: „Искаш ли да крещим, колкото можем, просто така!?
•  Жената: Да!

• Мъжът: ААААААААААААА!!!
• Жената: ААААААААААААА!!!

• Мъжът: СТУДЕНООО  ЕЕЕЕЕ!!!
• Жената: ДААААААААААААААA!!!

• Мъжът: ОБИЧАМ ТЕЕЕ!!!
• Жената мълчи.

• Мъжът: Няма ли да кажеш нещо?
• Жената: ААААААААААААА!

Този късометражен аржентински разказ ме стопли повече от всеки пълнометражен филм.