Спомням си как през летните следобеди, които прекарвах там, баба ми, привършила домашната работа, сядаше до прозореца на светло и вадеше от своя скришен сандък една огромна Библия с твърди корици, обвита с тогавашния официозен вестник "Работническо дело" по конспиративни причини. Вече знаех, че комунизмът и Библията никак не се обичаха.

Why is it that places thousands of miles from my childhood village home send me back, opening the sluice-gates of the past? Well, we are all emigrants from the homeland of our childhoods. It may be, then, that the natural place to meet ourselves as children is 'abroad', and that includes the foreign country of our growing up and aging. So it is that the personal, physical feeling of departure from the time of childhood may merge in a special symbiosis with geographical departure, biography and geography resonating now on a single wavelength.