He raised reindeers. He loved Eskimo women. He hunted foxes. Not really a human, he was between two worlds. Whether he was a spirit or a saint, even he couldn't say. He only knew that during winter, right after the solstice, a kind of sap began to flow through his veins. Instead of blood he felt chlorophyll like fire. And on his muddy face grew a white fur like that of bears across the floating ice. Then, as if in a trance, he climbed onto his sled and raced south as if he was ready to fly. He'd always come back at the first sunrise. And for another year, he was at peace with the human clothes.
Mihai Popescu
I am their creation. I started from one's man imagination. Then he told his friend. He told him what it was like to be seen. What it was like to be listened, understood, supported. How it was like to have someone create a space for you. That's how I arrived. By word of mouth, more and more children began to believe in me. And from their imagination, gradually, I descended to Earth, in Lapland. No. Not Japan. I received boots, thick clothes, a house, clothes and reindeer. With the reindeer was more challenging because they're stubborn.
Alex Caragian
The old man set up his office: the Old Man and the Great Psychoanalysis. The gate was half-open to anyone who wanted to sneak in their emotional baggage. Happy with the guests? Said the young man. Take a seat on my knees and tell me my dear, how naughty you've been. No, I just came to deliver a package. We all carry one. Let it out. Where? It's big. Of course it is, the burden of childhood years begins, come, on the couch. There's no room, man, it smells like a Christmas tree. Hmm, I suspected that, tell me about your mother, do you still believe in her or have you accepted the fantasy?
(Translated by Maria-Ilinca Darie / 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.