Featured — Hardcover Edition
a house you cross in colour and verse
Sixty illustrations and twenty-eight poetic texts walk you room by room through a house painted in Cubist and Fauvist colour. The poems don't describe the interiors — they drift through them.
Come in. Every room remembers.
About Brani & Desi
We are interior designers and researchers. For years we have studied how space acts on people, mostly without their noticing. Our interiors are one way to record it; these books are another.
The haiku are field notes: what a room does before anyone has a name for it.
Ebook — Feb 2026
before the name, there is colour
Light. Shadow. Colors that are more than colors.
Red flows hot. Blue pulls you under — you don't know into what. Green pulses. Yellow fades. The table waits. The chair smiles. This book does not explain. It takes away your questions. Every word is a pulse; every page is a room.
Ebook — Feb 2026
the wood remembers the hand
A poetic tale about the memory of wood and the love that finds its form.
A chair and a desk — Arker, witness to intellectuals' conversations, rescued by a painter; Former, carved by a grandfather's chisel and christened by a granddaughter. A story of craftsmanship that binds generations, and of the encounter that shapes everything. Read slowly. Feel the form.
Ebook — Feb 2026
the memory was not a picture
A short philosophical novella about the senses that shape our reality.
It follows a taste, a color, a sound — and reveals how they carry entire worlds of memory within them. About memory as a place, not as a photograph. About rooms and moments that become silent participants in an encounter.
Series · 4 volumes
a house can miss itself
33 interior haiku per volume — dreamlike rooms where chairs remember, walls breathe, and silence becomes a presence. Each book explores a different dimension: colors, forms, memory, and the language of absence.
Read them slowly. Remain in unknowing.
Read free on Apple Books in English or Bulgarian. Also available to buy on Amazon Kindle.
Vol. 1
the home arrived before we did
A home that dreams itself
33 interior haiku — dreamlike rooms where chairs remember, walls breathe, silence becomes a presence.
Vol. 2
colours speak; the room keeps quiet
Found itself in colors — Red approaches. Blue refuses. Green departs. Yellow embraces.
In 33 interior haiku, every room breathes its own shade of silence. Colors play; space keeps silent.
Vol. 3
the room was waiting for itself
Forms remember — The square wants to be a circle. The angle breathes.
Lines do not connect — they simply are. Light that divides the room into "before" and "after". A shadow that changes the surface without touching it.
Vol. 4
the room remembers another room
The mirror remembers — The word dissolves. The chair becomes the waiting.
The home speaks the language of recollection. Not what is seen, but what remains when seeing ends. Silence breathes between objects.