My father, my favorite Bulgarian, passed away some years ago, on his feet. In this way he gave his sons a last – and perhaps most important – example, but this is not what I want to talk about. My old man, Mitko Enev, died while he tried…

I would like to start with a somehow embarrassing admission: I was never much enraptured by architecture, a great deal of my life. Somehow my consciousness refused to fall in love. French glass pyramids, German cathedrals, Italian palazzos…

The sound of the steps, drawn-out and slow, as if somebody was dragging his heels, drove him crazy. Every time they started above his head he moved into a different room – from the living room to the kitchen, then, through the horribly…