already in memory

Get on that train, get on that tram, get on that bus, cause they’re all really meant to go somewhere… that place is not a big surprise, and you don’t want one anyway… you need to keep it warm, put some thick chocolate in, browse the shops, pick up a flier or catch sight of something worthy through a flying window… then you can decide if you go here or there… snow falling on channels, in a quiet, soft night… we walk on to the next bar, or maybe it’s even finally time for that midnight coffee… we live in a shipping container for a week and the water heater keeps steady almost all the time… we shop for cheap food that is so good, we love the bread, we love the cheese… we go to see the artist with the cut-off ear and his ear is the last thing we care about… his work is thorough – I love this word… never thought of his work as thorough, genius explained in a short stroll… libraries await and people in them seem warm and calm… there is a time and a place for everything and everyone, if your temperament is up to it… a second-hand book I never buy… there is a double-decker on rails and it moves silently and fast, glides through the screen of the landscape… a skinny girl just met us and now she talks fast… now she talks her life… a young Eddie Vedder will later trump her expansiveness with his own brand of cheery soulfulness… even teenagers turn 22 some time… he kneels beside my drunken friend and speaks of the pain of temptation… I roll and we smoke and I still forget nothing is illegal here, maybe just my furtive glances… the Dutch Hugh Grant wears a pink shirt and the same casualness… a heart-wrecker beneath the boy-face… the lights get dizzy and smear before my eyes… the music gets mean and funny, there is nothing left to do but march with it, and even get into some acting state… a tired smile… the clock is forgotten and a new year creeps in unnoticed, then laughs in our faces as we try to catch up and invent it… bangs and firing gangs outside, a fire burns and everyone’s cold and crazy… the bursting milk can is a time-honoured, 11-times-repeated tradition… the air moves violently, moving together with the buildings, the street, that passing car… next morning the sky is chilly and we wander the frozen streets, past a windmill with some kids trying to blow it up, listening to the sad and weird story of a city being destroyed by friends from above… back to base with the daily dose of shopping… there is a genuine lack of rubber boots and man hats in this city… the old, drugged-up, rastafari man demands the crowd loves him, them hits them with his voice… a beer coaster is cherished for a friend back home, I fight the wardrobe lady for it and then it gets squeezed and trampled in the suitcase, but still survives… money gets tight, and there is still some time left for a hot chocolate… we listen to stories about the best recycling plant ever and the military burning medical waste in my hometown… we get cheered up, sad, high, cold, fed-up, filled-up, relaxed, cozy and dreamy… and we don’t wanna go back to the place we call home.

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The personal website of director Ivaylo Minov

I am a Bulgarian-born filmmaker working between Sofia and London. Over the last six years, I have been directing TV commercials for agencies like DDB, Leo Burnett, Lowe Swing, Publicis, Huts JWT, Demner Merlicek & Bergmann. I have worked for a wide range of clients – from mobile telecoms through charities to a viral campaign for a presidential candidate at the 2011 elections in Bulgaria.

I have a film making diploma from the London Film Academy, following a BA degree in Journalism by the American University in Bulgaria. I have worked in media and theatre, before discovering my passion for film making and turning it into a full-time devotion.

Find me at:
liaminov (at) gmail.com
0044 7757 428696 (UK)
00359 886 880564 (BG)

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