“Strong belief in the bright future, always hiding fear of the past”.”

“Amazement of something in front of your eyes, which is so strong that it makes you refuse to believe it. A refusal to believe in the faith in human nature.After this dream only hope is entitled to judge me ...”

“…I wonder what actually this hospital is, why I am in it and who I am. I have no time to find out. I die, with my arms stretched towards the spotlights.Then whiteness.My body is still there somewhere…Buried in the extremely bright lights of empty hope.”

“-This is really a very deep and maybe hopeless winter night – I say on me foolishly.My fear hasn’t disappeared. This time however, I feel the slight cold from the snowflakes on my face and I am smiling.”

“„Maybe the happiness is out there...Like déjà vu. In another time, where all consciousness feel, that the beauty still exists. Where the people have forgotten the pain in the past and death. Where the demons are dead. Where everything is clear. Where you can see the magic of life, like mesmerizing, ghostly mist in the dark of being…”.”

“Human. Happiness. Death.Everything becomes one palememory in the flow of time.Spirit - always want the impossible and feel pain. Memory - an attempt to find entirety in the endless parodycalled human life. Freedom, policy, power, sex, violence, destruction, war. All extremes of ego are unconscious rebellion against death and loneliness. When you realize, the meaning is lost. I just want to believe:when I die, I will flying like a bird... or like dream...”

“So long time has passed since those days, and since that story, which is still vivid in my memory, and even more vivid than all the rest. Some times I stay alone in my work - room here, in my father's old mansion in Pasadena, and I look through the old, yellow pages again and again. Then I go back to the north part which is furnished in my style, with many colored Bulgarian carpets and blankets (special kind of Bulgarian blankets with long fur), I make my coffee in a cooper coffee - pot, which has been brought from there, and my thoughts wonder to those absurd memories of mine...Very often some friends ask me - what is that unusual memories of yours? I can't explain to them, better say I don't want to, and I always avoid the answer by saying - a la Bulgaro - in a Bulgarian way..."Oh, yes, yes"...”