Damn this civilization; you don't like paper newspapers anymore. No, now you read them online. But I got you a smartphone too, Grandpa, so you can catch up on the news from the internet. Well, I do that, boy, but that's not what I'm talking about. When I was young, I'd tuck the newspaper under my arm, go to the back of the yard, read, curse fiercely, tear the pages into strips, and come out feeling free of it all. Now, tell me: how do I do all that with your smart phone? Alright, Grandpa, I understand, we'll buy toilet paper.
Florentina Ghițescu
Grandpa read the newspaper every day. During the holidays, we would go together to the kiosk on the corner. I grew up, and Grandfather became small in his rolling armchair. He came to live with us. He had suffered a stroke, which took away his speech and the use of his right side. What hurt me the most was that it had taken the sparkle from his eyes. And I remembered. From that day until his last on earth, I read him the newspaper. When I miss him, I buy a newspaper and remember his light and his smile.
Bogdan Sebastian Burjan
...was about white headlines, with black letters, on pages already grey from the remnants of ink from previous editions. Faded shadows that no longer impressed even the author. Successive truths from the same fictional realities. Which, long ago, had ceased to interest anyone. He flipped through the last 4 pages. 4 headlines, about 4 imaginary truths. And a glue advertisement at the end. May they be glued together in the end, when folded. Not to be destroyed. Just to never be read by anyone again. He gave up on mobile data as well.
(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.