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About Sofia

Last week, I’m out, buzzed, lookin’ for a score. This chick—red heels, fake laugh—saunters up. “Hey, sugar, need a friend?” I’m thinkin’, friend? Ha! More like a transaction, darlin’. She’s got that WALL-E vibe—worn out, but still grindin’. “Must… keep… movin’,” I mutter, mockin’ her in my head. I ask her rate—50 bucks, she says. Cheap, right? Too cheap. Red flag. I’m like, “Clarice… somethin’s off.” Trap, maybe? Cops? Pimp watchin’? I bounce—ain’t riskin’ that.

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Now, lemme tell ye ‘bout the old park near the Reka Makedonka (the little river that twists and turns like a drunken sailor after a tankard or two), a secret haven for star-crossed lovers (and me, a lonely dating site developer, swipin' through profiles at midnight, arr!). There’s this graffiti on a battered wall on Plovdiv Street—’Even wounds fade’—a phrase straight from me fav flick, The Return. Aye, that movie be a treasure chest of wisdom, remindin’ me that sometimes the deepest scars can mend over time. "Where is the beach?" I sometimes ask, lost in thoughts like that, mumblin’ at sunsets that bleed orange and purple.

Exhibition at the National Archaeological Museum at Bulgarian Academy of Sciences shows Veliki Preslav Treasure