Pita

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

excerpt A NIGHT OF WAKING After the dinner party we go out into the hospital courtyard. Dusk is descending. A strong smell of carbolic acid tickles our nostrils. The boys are gathering round me. I tell them: Look. Let's all go to the cemetery. What should we do there

excerpt 2 JUNE 1877 My mother has written to me. Her letter took two weeks to reach here. A long, tender letter, such as only a mother can write. Pieces of advice and fears, events back home and thoughts about the war, and then more advice… She thinks I am still a child.

The idea of founding a puppet theatre as a means of improving health education among children, and the relationship between doctors and their little patients came from a long way off. I had read a book by Sergey Obraztsov, one of the best known and appreciated Russian puppeteers.

Winters in Ramnicu Valcea were quite mild in those times, though there was plenty of snow (I guess this is the cliché of those whose childhood memories are blurred by their excessive subjectivity); anyway, they unfolded following a certain ritual: at the beginning of December

THE CLASS TEACH' You don't fool me, Ghiţulescu! You've got Kents, bless your wallet! Throw one over, 'cause I'm poor, my mother's unemployed and keeps me only on shots of glucose, she has no food to give me. Come ooooooon, please! Ghiţulescu

In 1803, Maria Barbatescu entrusts her son to the care of ceaush (bailiff) Mihalache Barbatescu and that of stolnic (High Steward) Ghitza Palada. The will, written in the spring of that year, stipulates that the two should supervise the accomplishment of the child and the

excerpt The children used to fill a long, silky, women's stocking with sand, they used to tie it up really tight, then they used to hang a thin, nylon thread to it. In the evening, they hid the stocking in the rose bush, opposite to the sidewalk, and then they waited

A story, no matter how good or bad it may be, is in the end no more than a joining of words. That's something we know. But where do the story-tellers take out their words that they put together and make stories with (good or bad)? That's what we don't know.

So that he could finally be promoted at the end of this school year, grandma, mommy and aunty Mitsa promised to take the young Goe to Bucharest on the King's anniversary, the 10th of May. Little do we care if the three dames decide to leave their comfortable spot to

excerptONE-EYE-SHORTOnce upon a time there was a blond pirate who had one blue eye, while the other was covered with black cloth on purpose. Because the first ship had been taken over by sparrows, the second was on the point of sharing its fate. The ship One-Eye-Short worked

excerpt PLUSH PLUMBEOUS RETURNS TO THE TOWN OF MORE-THAN-A-WEE-BIT Once upon a time, there was a place. It was formless and nameless, and no one had yet travelled through it on the tram. At that time, hundreds of thousands of abandoned dolls had begun to wander hither and