Nighttime. Footsteps in the hallway. It's like a soldier marching around the house. Grandma was on patrol, fully dressed, in boots, head covered. Grandma, what are you doing? Why are you awake? My dear child, take me home. I can't stand this concrete, these cars, these doors. I want to go home, in my garden. I miss my hens, my cow, your grandpa. In the morning, we got in the car and left. When she got home, she picked some flowers and went to the graveyard. She sat down next to grandpa and told him about the city.
(Translated by Eleonora Manea / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficţiuni Reale.