This Fall

Fabiola Stoi
I'll be free, so they say. That means I'll walk out the prison gate in the suit and shoes I walked in with twenty-five years ago. Physically, back then, I was full of strength, now I'm a wreck. Beatings and hunger leave deep traces inside your matter. They thought they locked me up, but it was here I discovered for the first time the freedom to speak, to think, not to judge, to have soulmates. This autumn I will learn to live freely beyond the prison fence, among free people who whisper and avoid their neighbours. This autumn, they'll move me from the cell to the camp.

Cecilia Fofiu
I struggle like crazy with two bags filled to the brim with what will soon be our traditional vegetable spread, slaloming between all these rubbernecks at the market who have nothing better to do than to stand in my way, grinning apologetically. You've loaded too much, auntie, empathizes a pot-bellied toothless man who carries a knick-knack of a bag in his hand. Let me help you to a taxi, the empath says surprising me. With my glasses fogged up from the effort I follow the fatty who is now breathing like a human, not like a locomotive. The good Samaritan whistles, stops a car, opens the trunk, puts the bags in, gets into the taxi, and leaves.
 
 Caterina Tudorache
She's 75 years old and has a few health problems. Granny, when you get out of here, please makes us some pickles and vegetable spread. She looks at me and I see hope. She's 76 years old and has a few health problems. Granny, last year you made us the best pickles on Earth. When you feel better, please make us some jam. Like the one we ate when we were little. She looks at me and I see hope. She'd have been 77 years old. Granny, this autumn I wanted to ask you to teach me everything you know. Can you help me try to make the jam myself?

(Translated by Laurențiu-Gabriel Niculae / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)