Manuscript

Magdalena Daminescu
You know what I do when I miss you so much? I am writing you a letter. I collect them in a manuscript, which I will take with me when I leave for you. That way I'm sure I'm not forgetting anything you should know has happened since you've been gone. I'm sure you want to know what has changed for the better in our lives, but this chapter is very thin. I don't want to trouble you, but know that the building you built at the company has been dusted. There will be a new Lidl there. I better delete this part of the manuscript.
 
 Mircea Tara
I found it in my grandfather's attic. He had about fifty different writings. It was like a creative writing exercise. One sentence written with one, the next with another. The manuscript was an endless string of wishes. I wish a house. I wish wealth. I wish one or the other. I also wrote, more as a liberation: I wish to be a writer; to reconcile with her. Five minutes later my wife called me. The children had an absurd accident. Pain brought us back together, that's the title of the bestseller.

Ana Călin
Take me to a beach and let my blood flow until you make enough for an inkwell. Skin me carefully, then lay me out to dry. From what's left, take a clavicle, sharpen it hard, and get down to writing. Remember when I was mean to you, or if you want, when I was good. How I taught you to enjoy a shiny penny or Friday night or how disappointed you were when you found out that not all wishes come true. Make me a jade pommel, wrap me up and bury me in a rock bookcase, my child.

(Translated by Ioana Andreea Radu / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)