Cats, conscience and neighborhood dilemmas
July 6, the eve of dawn, when the mountain above the Vitosha district still breathes the cold, bluish air of the night, and the city beneath it is just beginning to rub its eyes clear of concrete and fog. I sit on the doorstep, gazing at the first rays of light forcing their way through the gray silhouettes of the apartment buildings, and in this fragile, antecedent silence, I feel the boundaries between my inner world and external reality begin to blur . Around me, emerging from the shadows of bushes and parked cars, they appear - the silent witnesses to my existence, stepping on soft paws. The cats. They are not merely animals waiting to be fed; they have become the living tissue of a deep neighborhood dilemma left unresolved for years, a mirror of our collective helplessness, and a trial for my own soul that haunts me every time I hear their quiet, insistent meowing. This is not just about a single kitten; it is not an incidental encounter with someone else's pain, but a progr...