Răzvan Dițescu
I'm such a mess, I'm not even sure what comes out of my mouth. My brain doesn't really listen to me. I'm floating; suspended between worlds. I perceive everything around me, but I can't process it; there's a short circuit somewhere. Tired; so tired. Part of me longs for sleep; I'd sign for an eternal one right now. Yet, I keep my eyes open. I want to see. It's the only thing I can still feel. It's past midnight. Two nurses enter the room. The first nervously pulls out the little bottle hidden in her pocket. The other raises the syringe. Don't be afraid, we're doing you a favor.
Paul Dîrvariu
I know how to duplicate π to 52 decimal places, but I can't boil an egg. I can describe in detail the Battle of Thermopylae, but I can't remember what I had for dinner yesterday. I'm capable of explaining the theory of relativity, but I end up bruising my fingers hammering a nail. I thought I was just as clumsy when it came to the most important worldly matters, but I was wrong. Yesterday, Cici called me to her house. She shouted from the door, I want you, little bunny. I managed. I urgently dialed 112: Help, I've fallen into the trap of a cannibal.
Anca Chimoiu
Do you know Kafka's prose with the man who turned into a beetle? One day, I woke up like a mess. You might say that everyone experiences this: I literally woke up like a mess. A once appetizing Cluj-style cabbage, too chopped and too spicy. And it wasn't just any cabbage. When I looked in the mirror, I saw that I was entirely Brussels sprouts. A perfect composition of cabbage and meat. A kind of pointillism of cabbage avant la lettre. How come no painter thought to illustrate this? The surrealism is full of clouds and clocks, but not a single cabbage.
(Translated by Claudia Garofina Greculeac / 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.