Shopping list. Ketchup, bread, eggs. I have to go to the bathroom. I wash my hands with liquid soap. I open the window. It's windy outside. I love the quiet. I turn on the TV. News about the war in Ukraine. I give a couple of hearts on tiktok to some quick recipes. I get bored. I listen to music. I have YouTube premium with no ads. I look at the white walls trying to find a splash of color. Back to the kitchen. I need more mustard. I haven't spoken to anyone in two weeks. I've packed the house with pages.
Sorin Rizeanu
A human caricature cradles enormous spherical buttocks and breasts, held in ropes like the sails of a yacht in a storm, ready to give way. I love you, she whispers, snaking on steep shoes like a ski slope. Lying naked in the sticky leather armchair, a trickle of saliva drips from the corner of his mouth. Self-deception is actually his area of expertise, which is why he became a writer. No greater whore than writing, no better way than words for a liar who always wants to be right. He opened a new document.
Costi Gălățanu
What are you doing, hussy, listening to the radiator? I'll fuck you up, you wimp. I hear the skinny lassy from the second floor. She's listening to Radio Free Europe, the slut. So? Go ahead and write, don't look at me like a chump. Write what, hussy? Write: First name, last name (I'd have put quotation marks, but it's not allowed), street, block, floor, apartment. Well, what's her name? Are you playing dumb? You think I didn't see you staring when she was waving (again quotation marks, same shit) her buttocks? All right, hussy, I wrote it. What now? Sign it? Yeah sure. We send it anonymously.
(Translated by Adela Neacșu / 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.