I don't have Munch's imagination, but I swear this story would be worth painting. I oscillate between him and Van Gogh. It's about yellow. A lot of yellow. And intense feelings. It's about the merging of man and nature at a crossroads. When sin meets need. When pain meets pleasure. I was behind the wheel, counting red cars. She hit me. I stopped alongside the sea of yellow. I loosened my belt as I went. I saw her head. I thought she was a terrier. Female. Sitting on my heels, with a sheaf in my hand. I howled. She howled back. In the rapeseed.
Cristian Nedelcu
Uncle Coza was tired of being alone. He had always loved to live up in the mountains, among his beloved sheep, but now, in his old age, he seemed to miss a soul, a woman to sweeten his days. Cârneală's wife, Elena had been widow for seven years. She wasn't the smartest woman in the village, but she was cheerful, hardworking and she has been liked him since he was a boy. She was happy to come to the sheepfold to help him with work. In the morning, as he was leaving the house, Coza saw Elena and couldn't believe his eyes. What are you doing, you fool, are you milking the dog?
Ana-Maria Butuza
The words hang silently behind the uvula, stubbornly trying to get out. She starts sweating and wipes her palms on the folds of her skirt. Blurry eyes sting her, her knees shake so she pulls them closer to stop them, pushing them into each other. She hears a voice from behind, but can't make out the words and she feels eyes fixed on her, mutely waiting. She tries to remember, but her heart beats out of her chest and she startles. She lowers her eyes, lifts them and finds her mother's calm gaze. Curly-haired puppy.
(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.