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ABOUT THE PROPRIETORS
* Their Trip To The Land Of Thrace
* Boryana’s Trip Up & Down The Golden State
* A Photographic Tour of Bulgaria:
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* Their Trip To The Land Of Thrace
* Boryana’s Trip Up & Down The Golden State
* A Photographic Tour of Bulgaria:
Posted in About The Proprietors | Comments »
By Honey van Blossom
My older grandson Ethan always wants to go to Chinatown in San Francisco. I insist we take a long time to get to Chinatown because, once there, my interest in our adventure wanes.
In Chinatown stores, he examines cellophane wrapped packages of exploding cigars, Mao’s Little Red Book, mechanical masturbating orangutans, caps that blow up in the street, porcelain ash trays formed in the shape of copulating couples, and playing cards with images of naked women. None of the store clerks will sell him any of these things although I can’t imagine who would want these items except for eleven-year-old boys. Once, he came away with a midnight blue silk smoking jacket. I gave in and got him a battery-operated cigar to go with the jacket – but that was in exchange for his not asking me how many times in my life I had had sex – and he walked insouciantly down Grant Avenue in his smoking jacket smoking his pretend cigar.
* Boyd Lewis' blog at Like the Dew
* Lucas Janin is a computer whiz from France whose day job is special effects in the dream factories, but check flickr from his blog for incredible pictures of California.* Umberto Tosi's Desperately Seeking Santa on Amazon (Kindle Edition) based on his experience as a Macys Santa in San Francisco.
* Umberto Tosi's blog website: The Einstein Express.
DESCENDANT
Elissaveta Bagryana
No portraits of my grandfathers are kept fixed in a family picture-book. I know nothing of the testaments they left, The lives they led, their souls, their looks.
But I sense the wandering, self-willed beat of the ancient blood of all my kin. Its raging rouses me from sleep, it draws me to our first-found sin.
Perhaps some grandmother — dark-eyed, with silken pantaloons and turban — escaped at darkest night to ride with an alien, fair-featured Khan.
Perhaps across the Danubian Plain hooves came drumming on the chase. Yet they were saved from being slain for the wind smoothed our their every trace.
Perhaps because of this I'm gripped by lands unseized by human eyes, by horses that fly at the crack of the whip, the wind-splashed, free-affirming cry.
Perhaps along my way I'll falter and lies and sin may show my worth. But I am, indeed, your faithful daughter, by bond of blood, my mother earth.
Tranlated from Bulgarian by Kevin Ireland
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