It's about life, isn't it? A scarf knitted with the crochet of hopes and dreams. At first sight, you cry after your mother's voice. The second time you go mad wondering what Santa Claus has left you under the tree. Then, you look at yourself in the mirror to see your womanly breasts. Your wedding dress takes you to the altar and you become the protector of a gargoyle yourself. Paradoxically, at last sight you don't expect anything. You shroud yourself the memories of the soft scarf and pray that the sickle doesn't pierce the kevlar too soon.
(Translated by Ana Spînu / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations) *Author's translation:
It's about life, isn't it? A scarf knitted with the crochet hook of hopes and dreams. At the first loop, you yearn for your mother's voice. At the second one, you're dying to find out what Santa left you under the Christmas tree. Then, you admire your ripe breasts in the mirror. Your wedding dress takes your steps to the altar and you become yourself the protector of an innocent cooing. Strangely enough, at the last loop you no longer expect anything. You cover yourself in the memories of the snug scarf and pray that the sickle does not pierce the kevlar too soon.
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale. 