He kicked off his sandals and picked them both up. With his left hand he fixed his wind-blown bangs. Her heart pounded; she hid her damp eyes under the brim of her hat. Let no one see her, let no one know her troubles. She ran her fingers through the hot sand, stepping on the shells. He recognized her light summer dress and followed her. What do you want? said Silvi, looking out at the sea. Do you see the waves? They come and go, like people. Go, he whispered tightly, clutching his prescription and train ticket to Nowhere in his hand.
Oana Jindiceanu
Here the tears flow upwards, like raindrops on the windscreen when you're driving down the motorway. Good thing you're tall, you can collect them in the palm of your hand. Hold them tight, like in a cradle, and before you sink your face, take a good look in the mirror. Then do what you like with them: wash them, drink them, throw them into the sea, or better still; Excuse me for interrupting you, but your eternal femininity has enveloped me in the meanderings of the subtle. Have you been drinking, is it? I don't see why we can't argue like this, like all people.
Gabriela Rus
At home there were seasons, we loved summer. We had suntans without sunscreen, sandcastles and acrobatic pool contests, corn peddlers, monkey photographers, carousel moon parks. Here, just an eternal summer and a beach full of people dressed from head to toe. Hey, white boy, come here. How many rupees does your European ice-cream mess cost? Give me four and get lost, the kids are scared of you, you look like a corpse. There's no room for you here, go back to your ruins.
(Translated by Andreea Cristina Moise / 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.