This book was written in various places. It began near the Wannsee at the Literarisches Colloquium Berlin, where I had all the tranquility and sunsets in the world at my disposal; it continued on the banks of the Danube in Krems (Literaturhaus NÖ), the Wachau Valley in Lower Austria, between the river and the strictest Austrian prison; the final I’s were dotted and T’s crossed on the Adriatic, in Split (thanks to an invitation from KURS), in the labyrinth of Diocletian’s Palace. I am grateful to the benevolent geography and my hosts in these places.
Thanks to Ani Burova, Nadezhda Radulova, Boyko Penchev, Miglena Nikolchina, Bozhana Apostolova, and Silvia Choleva for their valuable advice.
I thank Ivan Teofilov for his encouragement and shared faith in the wonder of language.
Thanks to Bilyana, who read and edited before there was even a book, and to four-year-old Raya for her patience and willingness to offer a story about cats and dinosaurs whenever she sensed that I was stuck.
Thanks to everyone who secured me the solitude necessary for a novel.