Fuck .My back hurts after last night's show. I take a Vicodin. My brain begins to work feverishly. 20,000 neurons per millisecond. I played in Eminescu vs Eminem, I could do Creangă vs Tupac. Fuck. My life is tough. Dad is calling me. What the fuck does he want? I miss my mother. Last night a Tatiana wanted an autograph. I gave her one. I felt horrible, formidable, uplifting, ridiculous, embarrassing. What if I made a film with Bendeac in which I was his mother? Or reinterpret The Hunchback of Notre Dame? Fuck.
(Translated by Delia-Maria Cocoș / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / 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 October 2022, the group has 9,400 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 Ficțiuni Reale. 
