Irritated, she stormed out of the classroom, muttering under her breath. The teacher's audacity seemed unforgivable to her. If she did what the teacher suggested, her child would become the laughingstock of the school. Of the whole village. She imagined the other students pointing fingers at her Ionuț. The villagers, whispering and smirking knowingly. Not to mention Sundays at church, during the liturgy. Inside the classroom, Ionuț, with a pair of glasses perched on his nose, saw for the first time through the window the hills where his father went to mow at the crack of dawn.
Dan Banu
Every time grandma put on her glasses, she gained a power no one else had. She would lift me under her wing, like a hawk lifting a chick, and we'd soar into unseen worlds. One evening, I stole her glasses. I passed through the ring of her left eye and found myself in a hallway with many doors. In the first room, a goat was sitting in an armchair, knitting socks for her kids. In the second, a proud rooster was counting money from his wallet, and in the third, a wolf wearing a bonnet was picking his teeth. Come in, he said.
Nelson Ciotoi
You're born without glasses. You tear through your mother's womb and emerge crying, dirty, and blind. Unprepared for life and without knowledge of good and evil. You step into an unknown world, a spatial labyrinth, without knowing cardinal directions or compasses. And you begin to open your eyes. A little more each day. Year after year, more and more. You start to unravel the labyrinth and distinguish between right and wrong. You begin to understand. More and more. Until the day comes when you need glasses again.
(Translated by Laurențiu-Gabriel Niculae / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.