Uncle Cristofor, my dad would ask, take this munchkin with you - that was me - \'cause I have work to do and he gets in my way. And uncle Cristofor took me to Piatra cinema. I don't know how many steps it took to get to the cabin, but I sure knew they led us straight to the heavens. Once we got there, Cristofor was no longer Cristofor, for he was God himself, making those poor people below him laugh, cry, cuss. Dream. Eventually, that halo disappeared and uncle Cristofor would got small once more, drove me home and went back to his God wife. Mrs. Marta.
Corina Nina
Having tense muscles, her legs were wrapped around him, as if they were living cod lines forever tying him up to her fragile shore. As a response, his hands firmly grabbed her white cheeks, making a secondary safety knot. His moves gained more rhythm and intensity, like a tempest to which he had given himself completely. Before going to sleep, he wrapped his arms around her tightly from behind. I love you, Ana. Her words got into his soul like a dagger. Honey, let's be real, we're not in a movie, you know I'm married.
Ana-Maria Butuza
I, an extra on the first day of shooting. Him, the director, annoyingly perfectionist. Talks little, gesticulates a lot. A bit more to the left, he says, and waves to the right. I look confused. Do as I say, he shouts, repeating the gesture. I take a step to the right. Are you stupid? I said left, and so he waves to the right. Shaking, I take two steps to the left. Stop. I can't keep working like this, he throws up his hands in despair, a bunch of amateurs! When I say go to the left, you go to the left and he waves to the right. Understood?
(Translated by Cristina-Andreea Dobre / 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.