Wait, my, won't you stop fretting already? I'm not doing anything; he was ogling her far too young body. She was trapped between a sticky body and a rough wall against which she was rubbing her back, as if trying to pass through it, to nestle between the bricks. My, why are you so scared? The only way out is through, it ain't the oldest profession for nothing. Solitude's echo struck the flesh of the soul and wandered deep into the being of the girl, the mother, generations of silenced women, condemned to solitude.
(Translated by Cristina-Bianca Ion / 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 Ficțiuni Reale.