WHITE

The Manifesto Of The White Lily, 1928

excerpts The lashes against the young generation are relentless. They have all befallen us at once, like pelts of heavy rain. The pundits charge anew and huff heavily, seconded by verbose mercenaries that bounce off like loose cannonballs of tennis. All the nuances of

All Those Images

Early Sunday afternoon, lying in bed with a large illustrated book of Ion Creangă stories, Memories of Childhood Days: the time stood still, waiting for me to turn over the pages, and I had all the time in the world. My father was sitting next to me reading too, but I was

The Red Scarf

excerpt  Is that what it says? dashed Redhead at Tindei, grabbing him by the jacket's lapels. Does it say I've been to the vineyard? No. . . not that. . . you were just. . . mentioned as a. . . as an example! Tindei answered frightened, almost chocking and with

Blue Evenings

excerpt VICA'S DIARY Vica had forgotten her diary under her pillow. Usually, she kept it in the drawer of her nightstand and in the evening, before turning off the light, she would write down her impressions of that day. Mica found it by chance. She was there tidying

Action P. 1500

excerpt FURTHER ON YOU WILL FIND OUT THAT I HAVE A GOOD MOTHER, A NAGGING SISTER AND A FATHER WHO ALWAYS YELLS Why should we lie, I know that you don't know my Christian name, nor my surname either. You have all heard that I am called Cry-Baby. Well, I was unfairly

The First Book, The Last Book

excerpts Dear Mother, I'd like to tell you something, and just because if I tried to talk to you about it, you wouldn't let me, I'm putting it in writing. You said to me, I quote: You go to school, do a good job there, finish well and we'll let you do

The Storm

The two students, Andrei Banica and Tudor Leru were in a hurry. That's why they had taken the shortcut. Leaving the highway that was taking a detour on the bank of the river Aries, they decided to climb up Vanatu, the mountain bordering on the river like a huge flat

The Life And Times Of Andrei Mihai Stan

Writing an oral history of a ten-year-old child may seem like a perfectly absurd enterprise any day of the week. The social experience of an individual of ten would not recommend an approach of this kind. With such a person it cannot be a matter of immediate memory. Hence

Why Does The Child Boil In Polenta?

excerpt Mother and I were working in a chocolate factory. My mother's husband was not allowed to work. He had to leave the country regularly and apply for asylum again and again. He and my mother always talked about how to make some money. We wanted to steal chocolate

Dumpy Picks A Trade

excerpts …Dreary clothes I do not wish forworn-away I simply abhor!Speckless white – that strikes my fancyOnly white, nought left to chance – yeah:capwithout a speckand a frockwithout a loch.  Not a chimney sweep – a doctor would I be,though at present I may falter,that

A Worried Man

It had been three days since the wind had been blowing from the east, the earth had dried up, and in the thicket from the edge of the village, on the bank of Siret, the cornel trees started to bloom, yellowish. Dumitru Onisor's youngest son took out six sheep to graze

The Offensive Of Childhood

I was never a child, I never had childhood… warm, golden days of puerile frenzy, the long-lasting serenity of innocence, the surprise given by the daily discovery of the universe, what do all these mean to me? I know nothing of them, or I no longer remember anything. I