She was blonde with long, curly hair and blue-green eyes, depending on the weather. Her fine white skin smelled of an almond and cinnamon cream. Through the daybreak opened windows a cold, wintery air entered the room, welcoming the holiday and festive atmosphere that pervaded the invigorated street. At the…

The woman was gone forever. Dirty ice floes thawed rapidly under the bright midday sun. The retro tram from which the dry, discolored paint came off was about to run away from the passenger station. I was waiting for it to leave. I wasn’t going in a certain direction. Suddenly…

I bought her a mirabelle flavored French liqueur with the fragile aromas of dried pears. I was climbing the stairs slowly, with heavy steps, scattering the mortar counterclockwise. The soles of my shoes left faded footprints, the girls downstairs danced fado in see-through evening dresses. …

Walking down the narrow, dark streets, the lamps smell of burning candles and the thick oil was dripping from the broken ones like used resin. I was irresistibly drawn by the lighted, curtain-free windows on the first floor or the basement of the old-fashioned buildings. Each time I saw a woman…

I was born into a family of urban cannibals. I love extreme violence and blood flowing on the walls. During the night I walk along the streets with a wooden bat hidden behind and hit fiercely on the tables of the infamous wine bars, where the sleeping drunks have forgotten the…

On the walls of a Byzantine-style cathedral, now in ruins, the luminous face of Nusfad Erectus was spray-painted. In the basement was a makeshift canteen for vagabonds. …

Blake is a massive apocalyptic beast living among the ruins of the central cemetery. His cold gaze spreads hatred and anger. One can see him every morning walking bent over, in a black, shabby suit, tailored in Victorian style. When living near the graveyard, I used to drink bitter coffee…

I am 257 inches tall from cap to tail and wear a hat with wide rolled brims, suit with a bow tie, a black monocle with golden edges, mustache, and walking stick. …

My father is an accountant-general at Ițaia Gabriel used to say several times a day in order to praise his father. Since nobody in the classroom had a parent in a better position, Gabriel liked to give himself due importance. Mr. Ciornei was fat, his face was covered with traces…