e-revista EgoPHobia - ISSN 1584-6210
by Ioana Jucan The bottle is on the table. The table is in the middle of the room. Therefore, the bottle is in the middle of the room. Which means – by implication – that the center of the room has been found. The bottle is the center of the room! The bottle is on […]
by Ioana Jucan A Prelude to The Bottle and the Fly “Good day, my dearest ladies and gentlemen. I/we/you/they are broadcasting live today – right this minute, though perhaps with a slight delay that, nonetheless, has no bearing whatsoever on the course of the events – from our so well-known – indeed most popular – […]
by Mădălina Stănescu Henry James represents one of the writers interested in capturing fundamental aspects of the national experience and of the international encounters, as he wrote in the 19th century, when industrialization reached full speed and crossing the Atlantic was much faster, making it easier for Americans and Europeans to discover each other. It […]
The Avowal — To Dominique I. Akpan The steadfastness of an aspirer is at times supported or reinforced neither by personal strength nor the desire to stay unwavering or for victory, but by the thought of those cherished encouragers— waiting on tenterhooks not to be let down.
Translation from Romanian by Merryn Williams and Adriana Boagiu, MTTLC student attempt I am the last wave of an avalanche that wrecked a century that unveils the sneering laughter of the void; the universal spirit which, like a shark, bites the net from his trainer’s glove. I am alone in the garden of Eden
Phantoms. grey ward phantoms rise and fall to the melancholy drums of Do-Re-Madness– contempt for the structure, fear for the citadel, and immemorial confusion for the citizen all mingle like anarch steel till annealed into one; one collective annihilation existence, one mad ashen God above presiding.
translation from Romanian by Graham High & Elena Alina Cerchez [MTTLC student] The fool I’m mad. I escaped from the nuthouse I keep in my right pocket a granade, and in the left one some poems that you rejected and burnt. I my hand I hold a stick of carbon with which I could graffiti […]
translation from Romanian by Graham High & Elena Alina Cerchez [MTTLC student] La folle I buy into myself 17 years of triumph, a celebration with a pack of cigarettes in whose smoke I hide my face, the bed, the future. She invested into a psychiatric book, Predescu, likes the conclusion that I’m histrionic, hysteric, combined […]
Winters, December translation from Romanian by Margaret Wilmot & Elena Mihu [MTTLC student] I was turning into a chameleon I only enjoy writing about myself I get bored writing about other people, it feels superficial like sliding on thin ice In any case, I could care less about pleasing someone else Fuck off and that’s […]
translation from Romanian by Barbara Dordi & Anca Bălăşoiu [MTTLC student] Since he felt he was a waste of flesh Since he felt he was a waste of flesh he paid for his euthanasia and set the finale. Since he knew there were people who needed his insides to go on