If I'll keep on vegetating, I'll grow buds. I'll be the first
clock-tree ever. A reinterpreted Dali. I've grown whiskers. One is long and one is cut short. Time sits
bow-legged on them, leaning absently on the dial. I's convenient. He's resting. I was stuck at 12:30, when He became its compass. It was Friday. Since then, She keeps revolving after the sun and I got to share the eternity of the same moment. I buy myself a watch, at least to know how much Time I have left. If love asks for the death of Time, I'd want to die in tick tock ti
(Translated by Oana-Roxana Dicilea / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)Real Fiction is a collective project started in 2013 by Florin Piersic Jr. The concept of Real Fiction continued to exist as a Facebook group, after a volume of stories was published at Humanitas Publishing House. (In July 2021, the group has 6.800 members.) The authors write ultra-short stories, with the texts limited to 500 characters (in Romanian, so the length of the English translation might be a little different) - a flash-fiction exercise on a topic that changes every few days. The group's coordinators are Florin Piersic Jr., Gabriel Molnar, Răzvan Penescu, and Luchian Abel. (Drawing by Adrian T. Roman)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficţiuni Reale. 
