It was so big that, when I looked into the mirror, I was looking through a kaleidoscope. I've stuck like this ever since I stretched out my arms widely, desperate to cling to a hug. My arms circled the Earth several times and got tired, so they rested meekly on my lap, like kittens purring the story of their travels, which they asked me to transcribe. Line after line, page after page, I wrote until, between words, I could look myself in the eye.
Gabriel Rusu
Almost anything for you. Just tell me what you want. To love me forever. Regardless, I've never seen another like you, in fact, I don't even want to. Something more difficult. Hm, I want a hair clip made of stars. A flower behind the ear. I'll peel them off tonight, leaving the sky to an empty moon. Something else. Bring me Straja Peak on Modern beach. Child's play, I rent an automobile transport platform, you just tell me where to put it. Now hold me close to your chest. I can't, baby, my arms aren't 555 kilometres long.
Dan Cazacu
7.646 kilometres. That's about the distance from my place in New York to my place in Bucharest. As the eagle flies. If you change planes somewhere, even a little further. I'm walking through Central Park, I post photos under the title In Herăstrău. Because I feel like I'm at home in the biggest park of the biggest city in the country. Friends from Bucharest are beginning to call me, or to send me messages. I have a conference on Tuesday, you coming? We can go out for a beer tonight, if you've got the time. There's an Ada Milea concert Monday evening, we could go. It's a small world.
(Translated by Diana Georgiana Rădăcineanu / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.