As many other broke students, she was selling her body to lecherous looks during the summer holiday. She was the favourite of the fancy club on the shore, where she'd pole dance. She shone like liquid diamond and used it as a hard, impenetrable shell. Their looks always hit a mirror, reflecting back the filth of intrinsic lewd thoughts. Inside, she was the only one in control, she kept telling herself. And yet, shame was digging deep trenches insider her flesh with invisible worms. And she kept looking away. They were wounds she refused to see.
Arthur Ianoși
I spent my summer holiday more like grounded than having fun. My parents caught me smoking and, by technical grounds, exiled me, like a Napoleon found in disgrace, at my paternal grandpa's place. A former army colonel. He'd train JE[1] so hard that you could hear it in all Palilula. He'd put on Awaken Thee, Romanian![2] at 6 am, and he'd sometimes throw a bucket a water at me, motivationally, of course. Come on, there's stuff to do. I conceived your old pa on this song. Come on, put some wellie into it, you thug. Your grandma was so into it. Will waiver smoke from now on?
Lucian Domșa
Oi, Gheorghe!, Todor shouted at his lad, coming out of the stoor. Bind the oxen to the cart and let us go. The lad scratched his head. But da', got to lift the rod and 'tis heavy. I Cannae by myself. Lord have mercy, the man told him, spitting in his palms. When I was but a wee lad, I would do it aww by myself. Bring out the oxen from the barn. He got close to the cart and bent over. He raised the chain. Tis aww well-rusted, he mumbled dismally, cursing through his teeth. I really need a chain, a braw one.
(Translated by Adelina-Maria Mănăilescu / 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.