Kolio K. approached to embrace the world in his own way - its streams first, then its movements and memory, finally all its disaccords. And the world was happy. And gained in significance. Then the world hugged him in return and turned his eyes into riverbanks, his tears into clouds, his gestures into sonnets, his silences into rhapsodies. This hug evoked the silver in the light, a slice of beauty, a pleading to the raindrops and overflowed the sadness. Or maybe just a heart convulsion of hope. Actually, that hug was leading a dream while further thinking yourself out, re-construct all your shape, feel the graph of your blood, compose your dreams. Engulfed in the hug of Kolyo K. and the world, each of us is coming to know himself, or has yet to. We recognized ourselves - one as a waltzing autumn leaf, another as an ant with wings, another as a bird plucking the sunset, and for some this embrace is a grief for everyone and everything. Never mind. What matters is that this embrace is a mirror, and more and more we gaze into it, examining our egos and vanities, losing ourselves in its shell, then searching through the cobble stones and whispers of life. And we are always a little different than before, a little more pretentious, with a few more longings.

Actually, I was going to say something quite different. I could never imagine the world without Kolyo K., and do I really intend that? I can't. In fact, I have never imagined the melancholy of this world, its tremors, its moans, all its sentiments and ornaments, all its overtures and scores... And when you make bread from the tear, a piano from the sunrise, sheet notes of the silence, thighs of a virgin from the crocus, this world cannot cope without you. This world has an aching need for you and always will. How could I now close Kolyo K. in words, on a piece of paper or on some keyboard? It is impossible! How could I make it come true in the past? It can't be done. To dress it up in quotation marks, periods, punctuation... No way. Kolio K. will always be the prospective. He will soar, he will dance, he will sing somewhere in space, he will rhyme autumn with the salt of a smile, the pleadings of birds, the wings of trees.

The story of this storm could be passed from mouth to mouth. We are doing our best to keep Kolyo K. alive forever, not only for the people who remember him, but also for those who never touched his vast space. That is the point. If you noted - I never used the past tense in my words about him. Kolio K. is not a part of the past. He belongs to the present. And the future. Thank you for believing in this idea. In the mission behind it. To turn this alien work into a piece of timelessness. To merge him with the rains, with the sun, with the sacred. Kolyo K. deserves it. When everything perishable goes away, the eternal remains...