One of daddy's dearest friends, Bojka Dobreva, was crossing the street on a hot humid Friday last week. černokostelecká ulice - the street of the Black church.
Knowing her - she was thinking about the future - the next Bulgarian folk dancing event she was going to organize; the next Bulgarian wine tasting trip; the next trip to Pirin, where she would sing with friends Moren sokol pie during the sleepless nights under the starry sky, like so many times before; the loving children that were to come. One step at a time, crossing an innocent street, marching through an innocent life. Only there was no future. Because from the hazy distance came a rushing car, like the heavy hand of a forgetful God who doesn't know and doesn't care, and grabbed her away from us. It took four hours for the life to ooze away from her, for her soul to find peace. Life is an equation that death has so far failed to solve. And so is love.
Bog da te prosti, Boichice!
