My mother died just as the first scream flew out of my lungs to the world. She left quietly, stripped of her pulse and feelings, knowing that she was leaving behind a loyal copy, which, panting through the snowdrifts., would make its initiatory path to maturation and reunification. What my mother didn't know was that I was terribly scared. I'm afraid of life. The doors close. The children are running outside. The hair spreads like cocoa powder on the bathroom tiles. The colors fade under my eyelids. I don't know where I am. And what will I be tomorrow.
(Translated by Carla-Marina Ştefănescu / 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.