Absence

Julia Sandu
I'm here. I breathe, I wear the face, I say the words, hell, sometimes I even laugh. But in behind there is nothing but a flickering light, like a bad transmission. Childhood has taught me to sit at the table and disappear, but at the same time let the mind drift while the body remains. It's as if I'm half asleep, watching my life like a foreign reel. Depersonalization, say the doctors, trying to put a name to a ghost. Nice word, sounds like a problem that could be solved if they really cared.

Dan Banu
The chapel's big, there are only about five of them. The dead person in the middle, funeral wreaths all around. He doesn't look at him, he hates the dead. The priest swings the thurible and a cloud of incense pierces his nostrils. He came at Anca's request. Doru, our university classmate is dead. They hadn't even been friends, and the last time he'd seen him had been at the assignation. Two women in mourning clothes are weeping beside the corpse. To him, it's just a wooden leg of a long walkway. He begins to sway. He feels the other fallen legs under his feet.
 
 Yuka Brevi
He was such a charismatic person that he stood out by his presence and, above all, by his absence. Everything was perfect. He was happy. That is until one day, when someone else appeared who, like him, years before, occupied everyone's minds and stole everyone's hearts. This was hard to bear and, after a few desperate flaps, the wings broke. Everything was useless, the sky darkened, sad thoughts took him in their clutches. Then came the dull, eternal silence, and no one remembered anything of what had been.

(Translated by Andreea Cristina Moise / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)