This was Parham’s gift. From his playlist of tunes that filled Eddy’s Bakery, while he made pastries and pizzas from 7am until 2 each day, cheerful, kind, never complaining.
When I told Parham how much I liked the song he played it for me intentionally. Listening to it, with my morning coffee and croissant, looking out onto the icy Sofia street, I was lifted high above my desolation.
This morning the view is very different. If I close my eyes, or with them open too, I see Parham with his baseball hat spun backwards and a boyish grin. He’s asking me what I’d like to have. He’s telling me about his family in Iran whom he hasn’t seen for 10 years, his love of funk music and his other job as a DJ. He’s giving me his phone number incase I get lost climbing Mount Vitosha.
Today there’s heaps of sunshine,
No more ice, angry dogs or angry graffiti.
A dandelion floats by,
And I play the song anyway.