She thought she was too tired and that she could use some relaxation. Her man beats her, the kids cry and yell around the clock, her boss harasses her daily. She also worked out her bank debt and related them to her meagre salary. She planned out the schedule of her vacation in detail, although she was intent on going alone. But, she didn't know from where exactly she would start the journey. That was it, she had figured it out. The tower, 80 metres tall as it was, was the best starting point. She closed her eyes and began her great relaxation.
Camil Popescu
There is nothing more exhausting than continuous relaxation and nothing more dull than the last few months on a job you are done with up to here. So, I'm trying to kill time with petty diversions: I've got a golf iron that I use to practice swings, I water the ficus by the window once every two days, I make paper planes, and I try to fix Ion, the government robot, which should emerge from the cabinet on the hour, as the cuckoo of a wall-mounted clock, and say something. It indeed emerges, but it says nothing. It's mute.
Monica Bologa
We are approaching the small house on the beach, stepping barefoot on shells and crushed stars. As we closed the door behind us, we jumped in bed. Now, after three days, we have no clue how cold the sea is, but we know too well how hot our bodies are; we haven't visited the surroundings at all, but we have explored each centimetre of each other's skin; we haven't tried the local cuisine, but we've leisurely savoured the sweet and sour taste of each other's bodies. As the vacation ended, we understood one thing: the most intense type of relaxation happens in bed.
(Translated by Francisc Csiki / 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.