10 years and 8 different apartments later, the weird thing is that I haven’t kept anything with me all this time, maybe some friends, maybe not.
The first one after the army was the depression house, the one I wanted to die in, that was like a million years ago and I was so young then.
Then came Sofia, the city of possibilities, the beginning of the end, all and all, 5 years and 4 flats there (musagenica, dianabad and two flats in lozenec, the last one was my asylum) .
Countless people, way more than countless, 3 universities later and not much to say about the knowledge. As we get older we tend to review our life, like a movie with bad casting, wondering what if the actors were different or the scenery was something more of us. Well turning back times isn’t one of our gifts, see our little creator knew that we would of fuck it up eventually, so he gave us regrets instead.
At the beginning was doubt, doubt about everything, music, art, literature, drinking, sex, drugs and never the rock. After the doubt came the knowledge, well the fake one, when you thing you have an actual opinion and you have no idea what you are talking about. That was when Marx sounded good and the “I have a dream” of Martin Luther king was “almost” true. Years came and went, and from a rebel we went to the leftist and from there to democrats but we never wondered why. What was wrong with us? Or to be honest what was wrong with me?
Well as I leave my 30s behind me, am wondering now! Is that too late? Hope not!
** when did Marx sound good? Did we ever believe him?