An impossible relationship. I listen to hits, while he is obsessed with that music that smart people listen to that I don't understand. I don't like it at all, just a mess without core or rhythm. But I'll wait a little longer; I will tell him after the first kiss. I didn't tell him after the tenth one, nor after our first crazy night of love, not even after he moved in with me. Last night when I got home, I found a goodbye note. He told me he couldn't be with a woman who didn't like jazz. Now I sit on the armchair and listen obsessively to Ella Fitzgerald.
Dan Banu
He found the jukebox, searched for Kind of blue, inserted the coin and sat back down at the table in front of his coffee cup. The music started to flow like heavy honey over the things around him, wrapping itself around them, searching for their core. He took a sip of coffee. Finally, the music managed to penetrate them and things started to crumble into particles fine as dust. Then the wind started to blow and the coloured dust scattered. He woke up on the edge of a lake. On the other shore, a young lady was picking reddish leaves.
Daniela Rusu
The stage was drowned in dimly light. Yellowed sheets, loaded with scores, lay scattered on the floor as if after a gust of wind. The chairs, positioned at the same distance from one another, were arranged in crescent shape, in three rows. In the middle, was a rusty double bass over which a thick layer of cobwebs spread. And a heavy silence, which made me turn my back. I closed my eyes for a few seconds until I heard the orchestra. I quickly searched in my bag. Among the shadows in the mirror, two hands could be distinguished.
(Translated by Ioana Bobeanu / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.