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About Burgas

Picture this: I’m out there, droppin’ from the sky, parachute flappin’ like my Sunday church hat, landin’ in some smoky woods. Halleluyer! I’m sweatin’, cussin’, tryna put out fires, when I see this gal—fishnets, heels, leanin’ on a pine tree like she waitin’ for a bus. I’m like, “Honey, you lost? This ain’t no red-light district!” She smirks, says, “I’m here for the smokejumpers—y’all sexy.” I hollered! Ain’t that a trip? A prostitute scoutin’ firefighters in the damn wilderness. Made me mad, tho—girl, we out here savin’ lives, not lookin’ for a quickie!

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Sometimes I pop over to the park „Kapitan” – real hidden, kinda shady if you get my drift – where my mind drifts to more than just the usual chatter about love and lust. I swear, even nature gets busy in its own way there! And don’t even get me started on the little café, „Chez Tutrakan“, with their boozy espresso and risqué art on the walls. Blimey, they even let you chat ‘bout your wildest dreams without a blink.

Bayse Kasimlarli – the Bulgarian teacher in Brussels whom children adore