At the Market

Monica Ciurea
Once a year, at the meat market, matchless organs go on sale. Greatly skilled when it comes to bartering, but coin barely changes hands, for the goods are mostly the least useful for the household. Ladies everywhere you look, but either those raddled with makeup that won't shut up, or the lunatics that have you making the sign of the cross, and the men either waste their time here or are the type to go soft when it's time to toil. Today I found myself there, put up for auctions for you to see how much money I could get you. It'll be hell for you when I buy myself back piece by piece.
 
 Laura Stanciu
I'll go to the market for you, from here, in Toronto, you don't have to go out with this ice on the ground and get into a worse situation. Don't go out, dad too, so I can have my peace of mind. Olguța, you can't be paying for shipping from there all the way to Iași! And everything is gonna get all messed up! No, mom, it's just like if you went to the store, but a delivery man brings your groceries to your doorstep. Do you get it? From now on I'll order them for you. I can't accept that. They're cheaper here too! I pick them out with my hand. Plus, they don't have the same taste over there.
 
 Răzvan Dițescu
On the stalls, the tomatoes nudge into the peppers. An old woman leisurely displays the cucumbers. A man with an empty bag asks: Ma'am, why are the cucumbers sad today? People are bumbling about. A little girl cries in front of a stall, a boy draws circles on another. The man with the bag sits on an invisible chair. Time slows down, the vegetables lean towards the customers, the fish open their mouths as if to say something. The old woman spoke slowly: Whoever spends money here today isn't buying food, bur rather time. The market continues breathing.

 
(Translated by Adriana-Maria Botea / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)