World View

The tunnel under Vitosha was cold and
dark. Puddles of urine lay in black
corners like quiet mountain lakes.
The tanned, hazy light of summer rolled
down the steps like water to form a
pool of sunlight at the bottom.
A man descended the stairs into the
darkness; splashing through the light, he
approached us. Zniate li kakvo
merisha? he asked. Do you know
what that smell is? Can you smell the
piss? It’s the smell of democracy.
He shook his fist towards the dark
ceiling and yelled, Bulgaria is
overflowing with piss! He moved on.
The tunnel shook as a tramvi rumbled
overhead causing the puddles to quiver
and tremble.

***

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