Krasimira Butseva



The pit

The matches spilled by the front door, the morning he promised to leave his wife for my grandmother.

4th floor

She saw a thin cover of blue light ascending, and tried hard to remember to simply move her pinky finger.

The upside down

I swallowed my tongue and choked. Lost my breath and opened my eyes only when I heard my name to understand I have died a little.

The 30th day is when the soul leaves. She moved her hand toward me and I stayed still, as she disappeared from the bar.

Study of headscarfs

When my tongue touched the palate the word crow collapsed. Welcomed with applause and joy, as she finally spoke.

Spilling salt

The missing grandfather

There were a lot of us, but she approached me. Took of her necklace put it on my chest and said that I need it more.

National lottery

She dreamt of my grandad, he was young and strong – waving at her by the highway. I used to always imagine her memories in black and white, rarely in sepia.

Coming back from the sea side, my auntie and uncle got into a car crash. The truck and watermelons were squashed and they were without a scar.


I dreamt of his death, mistaking it for my own.


He would slaughter the sheep but first cut their tongues off. Later on they all will be born without voices. 

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