It's been a dream week. On Monday I took up sport - I circled the Earth ten times - on Tuesday I made a paper aeroplane and flew to the moon, on Wednesday I went to the Sun to burn away all my fears - up close, you can look at the Sun without blinking - on Thursday I made love all day among the stars, on Friday I picked dandelions, on Saturday I danced on a wave, and today I'm going to make my armour out of stories. Otherwise, it's all the same. I work, pay bills, watch movies and sleep every night alone.
Lucian Domșa
That Sunday afternoon, the heatwave paralyzed the entire village. The air was hot and houses were breathing heavily. On the desolate alley, a hiker with a knapsack on his back stopped, wiping the sweat on his forehead. He shade his eyes with his hand and looked along the road. He wore a straw hat on his head, and his shirt was stuck to his back. His hair, matted with sweat, fell over his ears. It was that long moment of frozen stillness, when the leaves stopped shaking, the air froze, and God slept soundly.
Iulia Biro
He would still be lying on the bed in the summer kitchen, when she decides they've had enough rest for the afternoon, she gets up, sits on the edge of the bed, ties her scarf and, as on any Sunday afternoon, she doesn't blow her top: Didina went to that woman's house, she went her together by the ears, then drove her man home with a pitchfork. Mardare's cow gave birth to a ruddy heifer. Gigi got drunk all the week. Nae's kids came from Italy, look how sunburned they are. His wife is better than a newspaper, he muses. He's lost sleep.
(Translated by Florina Georgiana Țîncu / 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.