Some of the most memorable times I had as a child were the summer times that the whole family used to spend in a small hut on the Black Sea coast. And the highlight had always been the mesmerizing stories my grandpa used to tell us about the headless horses, the children, the sea. I still bear the magic of those stories. When I visited my birth-land Bulgaria with my family after 25 years, the sea evoked all those memories interrupting my thoughts and daydreams, and I slowly became obsessed with the Black sea, and its myths. I view my journey as a documentation of life along the coast, and about the mysticism that had existed in my grandpa’s stories. I have been roaming over the region, mostly on the southern part, searching for traces of my past, looking for visual notes connecting my present existence to my childhood by the sea and to the sea itself.