Summer
Every summer the city on the hill is drowned in green, which explodes in the church park, at the Citadel and at the Cabin and the Grove, while the green willows of the River girdle the city. The summer of fir trees and willows flaps big, unseen wings in a fervor of lofty
The Intruder
excerpt I wasn't wrong. In every woman, more than in a man, lies a history. But I have never in my life heard a shorter one, although the events in it could very well be enough for someone, their entire life. Could Nutzi have felt that I wasn't able to listen
The Pit
excerpt They wandered about the villages around Bucharest, the old man leading the way, Paraschiv right behind him. They went to Bolintin, to Catzelu, eager for prey. They always went there on market days when the peasants were there, as these were the most likely victims
L'Abbandonata
excerpt I was half asleep in a somewhat uncertain state of mind (and of body)… A vague and – at first – terribly tortuous state of wakefulness was gently falling over me; then, the same confounded state came back floating over me, translucent, like some veils unbraided
Pynx - The Artist
The 20th of April 1920Pynx will undoubtedly arrive soon, just like he arrived yesterday and every day, every week and every month of every of the last years. Fever and anxiety infringe upon the depth of feelings. My home? What do I call home? It is wherever I am; it is,
Hearts Scarred Over
excerpt Sunday finally came. The rain had stopped falling. The patients were all taken out to get some fresh air. They were all sitting side by side in their wheelchairs under a narrow canopy made of sullied cloth that was once yellow but had now been washed out by the
Mrs. Pipersberg's Boarding House
The book about fleshexcerpt I absolutely have to tell you in detail everything that happened in my wedding bed, on which we lay down as though on an operating table, Ferdinand Sinidis grumpily intervened. I really want to stick to the subject, although it might seem that
Mundus Inversus
N. D. Cocea (1880-1949): The Psychological Analysis of InfidelityWhat got into you, saleslady? / How come you hold your head so high / Over a black patch? That's how an old suburban song goes. Pentr-un petec de negreata / Over a Black Patch is also the title of the
Maitreyi
excerpt When I came back from the town, I found a note on my table: Come to the library! I met Maitreyi, who told me, terrified: Khokha knows!I tried to look undisturbed and to persuade her that it didn't mean anything. Maitreyi stared at me, clasping my hands, as
Miss Christina
XVMiss Christina stood there, very close to him, with her breasts uncovered, her hair loose, waiting. Egor, you're humiliating me! he could hear her thoughts. Turn off the lamp, come closer!Egor tried in vain to resist. He could feel Miss Christina's command in
The Russian Woman
excerpt The more we drew near the little hamlet, the more I felt in my heart the finger of a tremor stirring up the layers of tranquility. And although I tried to shake off this unwanted mood, my eyes were looking round stealthily, for the hillock we would climb, on which
Donna Alba
excerpt Donna Alba reached the door with her nimble, high pace. Outside, in the hall of the floor, I caught up with her. I switched on the light and moved my hand around, trying, finding no other way, to delay her from the straight, irrevocable path that I had traced out