He had entered the city at dusk. Just like we knew him. A Trojan horse with a red harness. He was more of a nag, but I closed my eyes; the city was dormant and the beauty was bored. I had seen this before and I should have rung the alarm, but no. By sunrise, the Trojan had taken over the city, the tyrant had lost his head, and the girl had left with the victor. These old recipes are invincible. It's not the walls that are difficult to conquer, but the souls. And if you can't conquer them, you poison them. Obviously, from inside. Ten years and a Trojan.
(Translated by Bianca Ioana Prisecaru / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by prof. dr. Nadina Vișan / Edited by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.