Tar

 Avram, the verger of Saint Nicholas church, limping on one foot and shoed with a thick sole, hung on the rope of the church bells like an old monkey. On the side of the twisted leg, the arm was twice as long, and his hand seized the rope from above with the agility of

 When the assassination had ended well, I introduced myself to my new lawyers. Although I had taken measures in order not to be discovered, I said to myself I had to be careful. Several agents had already started to loom around. Come on, pluck up your courage and contact

With the no. 25 issue, Freaks and Outlaws, the PLURAL collection embarks on a new, semestrial series, donning a new design and proposing more exciting themes. Our aim, though, remains the same: to reinstate the connection, and at the same time highlight the connections,

At first sight, nothing could be more reasonable or understandable than the illustration of the present issue of PLURAL. As the texts spin around the sexual obsession in Romanian literature, running from Creanga`s licentious Tale of All Tales to Agopian and Aldulescu`s swank,

It so happened that I lived for a while in Polynesia, and this extends the story up to the Antipodes. I had recently come back from the countries of the South Pacific, from the Polynesian islands. I was bringing with me the brain tomographies of a Maori minister, the file

my mouth is so full of flesh that I hadto cut the root of my tongue and thrust it into the church,in the dark, by the altar. the church floor was flooded by red blood, from the mouth,from the tongue, I slip on blood, not on planks. I want to enter the kingdom of heavenso

excerpts Now I'm working in the variety show. At the beginning, I danced with the other women. My appearances grew more and more frequent, and Pepita gradually pushed me to the front.  THE BODY – that's how I'm advertised on the billboards, life-size,

excerpts Crina: Very few people on the trolleybus. I take a seat and as always I get to be on the sunny side. I prop an elbow in the curved rubber of the windowsill. White with powder and fingerprints, it is filled with seed coats and a used ticket. Gusts of wind carrying

Chapter SixIt's barely after midnight. Door number 415 opens. I get out and the door remains unlocked, wide open even, behind me. There is no one at this late hour to hear me and even if it were, why should I be afraid when I look like a leaving visitor, and not like

Some of the readers of this book may very well not go beyond the first part. Actually, they may not go through with their reading at all. Despite the efforts of our predecessors, from Conachi and Negruzzi to Creanga, from Rebreanu to Bogza and young Eliade, joined, after

excerpt 02/01/1980I am reading something by W. Faulkner, which lives among dusty shelves, with a tidy certitude; that certitude divorced reality a long time ago, quietly depleting, like a breeze of air when it sees injustice taking hold… and I now believe that this is

excerpt I carefully studied him. It seemed to me that he was shaking. His hair was dark and curly, his eyes bright and his face was fresh and clean like a baby's. Why are you looking at me like this!?My, how you've grown, Raresh!You have such beautiful eyes! I've