IF I was to look back over my life of just 37 years, everything for me has been defined in one way or another by Europe.

I was born in 1982 under the same dictator – Todor Zhivkov – as both of my parents. I recollect hearing conversations between my parents and their friends, talking endlessly about Europe. What would it be like to be in Europe, to be recognised by Europe, to be recognised as European? As a kid a lot of this was lost on me – all I had to do was go to school each day and navigate that, but I was dimly aware that Bulgaria was European: like Britain, it sits on the edge of the continent. The adult conversations contained some sort of mistake, didn’t they?

When the Berlin Wall came down in 1989, I was seven. Together with my parents I celebrated on the streets of Sofia, we were all there, Bulgarians together. We waved big blue flags and spoke of democracy. The slogan was The Time Is Ours. For us commoners it was easy to identify what we wanted to overthrow.

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Many richer families, those connected in the Communist Party, the numerous party leaders and deputy leaders in Bulgaria, took the opportunity to flee, grabbing much of the nation’s money as they went. They emptied the country’s bank accounts, but they couldn’t empty the hearts of the population who had for so long been stuck in a dictatorship, unable to change their circumstances and the environment in which they lived.

Still – hope, grit and determination were in abundance regardless of how hungry we all were. The possibility of freedom is sweeter than anything else.

From that point on, my parents instilled in me the belief that I could indeed be something: that I could dream, and that if I worked really hard my dreams might just possibly come true. Their dream was that I would use all the freedoms they had lacked.

Fast forward nine years and my family moved from a mouldy block of flats devoid of food and ridden with cockroaches, to a life a little more bearable, predictable and possible. I began to learn English. My first boyfriend learned Spanish. New books in the library described places I dared to dream of visiting.

I often think I became an adult aged 16 – that was when I arrived in the UK on my own. I had a huge bag full of clothes, drawing materials, some books and plenty of hope. I remember distinctly that it was August 2, 1999, and it was raining as I walked out of Heathrow Terminal 2. My English was timid but drawing was what I came here to do, and that needed no spoken language.

When, in 2008, Bulgaria became part of the EU I no longer needed to queue outside the British Embassy on cold mornings to have a gruelling interview or spend my grocery budget on visa renewal. I could now travel and see a bit of the Europe I had so desperately wanted to belong to. I started at home on the streets of Sofia. We waved big blue flags with gold stars, sang songs, we danced long dances and we all cried with jubilation.

So, here I am, 11 years on. Thirty years since the unification of Europe as a continent, since we all slowly dismantled a huge wall. Since we all gained the chance to travel freely, west and east, and choose our futures. Since my parents allowed themselves to dream again. Lots has changed and lots is still the same. But one thing is for certain – I am European and so are they. To belong to an idea above and beyond borders is the place I want to call home.

Fallen Fruit continues touring in Scotland this November:

Nov 1 – Paisley Arts Centre

Nov 2 – Aros Community Theatre Skye

Nov 6 – Universal Hall Findhorn

Nov 7 – Lyth Arts Centre, Wick

Nov 8 – The Barn Aberdeenshire

Nov 9 – Eden Court, Inverness

Nov 10 – Perth Theatre, Perth

Nov 30 – Longformacus Village Hall, Duns