Overpopulation

Ana-Maria Butuza
In the urban bustle, the earth was struggling to keep its balance, shaking under the weight of millions of feet trampling on it ever harder. People were scurrying through the streets like grains of sand dropped from a holed bag, each of them searching for a place to sit, but no one could find enough room to breathe. In this jungle of concrete and flesh, Khnum seemed to have gone mad. He was constantly moulding people on his potter's wheel; and they grew like grains of boiled rice, filling every corner.

Monica Aldea
The house had become smaller ever since their parents had taken the one-way path of foreignness. The old woman worshipped the bread and then shared it. Nine little hands made the pieces disappear as if they were never there to begin with. Only the enticing smell wafted up in a wisp when the door opened with an ill creak. The clerk looked around the room, tapping with his finger accusingly on the file. Aunt Lina, can't you see that there is not enough space here for even a ray of sunshine to get through? There is, my child, said the old woman gently, putting her hand to her heart. They all fit in here.
 
 Titela Durnea
Fewer and fewer were dying. They had found the elixir of youth. It was sold by the gram in secret. The price had already exceeded the value of the soul. More and more were born. From so much immortality, even the unborn have struggled and earned their right to free passage. Over time, the circle had become more and more narrow, but they started applying the technique of dervishes, making you enter a state of trance just by looking at them. The fissure caught them dancing. They got to see their wrinkles and then there was silence. One truer than any word. On the scales, a baby soul was giggling.

(Translated by Ioana Bobeanu / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)