I arrange the exhibits carefully. I wipe them off, I polish them, I deal with them for hours. Jewellery, clothes and accessories. There are my things without apparently any link but they have an emotional value for me. One of them kept even smells, so I put them in sealed bags. It is a museum of senses, of wishes and I expose periodically new showpieces. There will be no one that will see them besides me. No one would understand it. In newspapers, they call me serial murderer, what do they know about the seeking of the eternal love?
(Translated by Teodora Stoian / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficţiuni Reale.