When I was little, I asked my grandmother where everyone was. He talked to them all the time, and they were smiling in the pictures. Grandfather, mother, father, unknown uncles, all there, in a gallery of the ever-present absentees. It wasn't until her smile settled next to Grandpa's that I found out where they were. They rest on the moon and at night they talk to each other in this small room until morning, when all the stories break into threads of light and bring the day. I'll be leaving soon too, baby. But you know I'm always in the smile on the wall and in the moonlight.
Traian Toduț
With March came spring. Hope immediately blossomed in me and I carried it like that into the rainy April. But time passed quickly and you were still in winter. Then, in May, I said to myself that surely love will touch you and you will tell me wait, wait a little more. Or maybe love will ripen in June, just is the beginning of summer. Certainly in July, when the inevitable harvest will bring the much-desired fruit. But now it's August and you haven't come. The leaves are already falling, the chill grips me and I think of the winter months.
Mirela A. Nica
I saw the Little Prince today. He was passing by with his asteroid, B 612. I motioned him to stop and invited him to some baobab tea. Since I haven't seen him, his hair turned completely white. The light years he carried on his back made him look even smaller. I was afraid to ask him how his flower was doing, so I gave him a portrait that I had done some time ago. He then told me that it was a prophetic drawing and that he and his wife would love for me to accompany them on a sunset marathon one of these days.
(Translated by Ioana Andreea Radu / 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.