Countryside. A small town. A village. For a long time they remained unknown for me. I was born in the capital and did not have a granny, living in a village. I was grown-up enough when I visited a village. So… so I fell in love – with nature, with air, with the sights, with silence, with the incredibly real people. They do really care “how you are”. They do greet you wholeheartedly, although you have never met before.
AM (moments before Christmas)People are getting less and less. Even during the day it is difficult to see more than one or two. Although Christmas is the time for the coming back home... Palitsi. A small village in central Bulgaria Not more than a hundred people live here. Above it exactly there is an air corridor passing. There is almost not a piece of sky, without a plane trace. This, somehow, turns you into a dreamer.
PM (the Christmas celebrations)People are getting a little bit more. However, not enough to fill a hall for forty. From children to seniors, everyone is coming here. While I am shooting them, they feel special and thankful. The very opening of the celebrations starts with an ensemble of fully energetic and positive grandmas. The lotto comes next. Here the presents vary from a sponge and soup-holder to flat sausage. The traditional dance horo takes place at the end, of course. I went out to take the final shot. Satisfaction with the happiness of these people was what my soul felt, accompanied by a strange feeling of emptiness. The only thing I will never be able to understand is the sense of anger when a “villager” is pronounced, the segregation between the “countryside-people” and the “capital-people.