When I moved to the United States, Sundays became the softest part of the week — a ritual of Eggs Benedict that reminded me of the girl from the Rhodopes who once believed America was a dream.

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Cooking and food saved me more than once.
It gave me a voice, a path, and a way to transform my own wounds into something warm, beautiful, and useful.
This blog is my love letter to the world — written through recipes, memories, and soul medicine.