aici<\/a><\/strong><\/em> <\/em><\/p>\nIt was during that time when I was doing extramural studies at the university and I very rarely went in. I only had classes two weeks a term – a couple of hours each – and five days of exams. Other than that, I had no reason or obligation to get up, say around 7:40 a.m., like I\u2019d done for 13 years while I was in high school. I was telling myself I had to do something, at least invent a small purpose, something that would somehow work, something other than the shower over the toilet to get me out of the house. I felt I was starting to rot away bit by bit. I was seeing very few people. Everyone I knew had got into college and had their own motivation. I was left with my bed and the internet. <\/p>\n
I got the idea of sitting in the library and reading the authors I had always had in my mind. They were Deleuze, Foucault, Jung, Nietzsche, Schopenhauer\u2026 It was an enthusiastic idea, I mean getting up in the morning and getting on the bus just to read Nietzsche. But each time I fell asleep at the reading table and woke up twitching in pain, then fell asleep again. For two or three hours I was in agony, between sleeping and waking. I couldn\u2019t lay my head on the table because they would have kicked me out, but I\u2019d sleep chin in hand, then with my head on one side and then with it bent forward. I\u2019d wake up with terrible pain in my face, neck and forehead as if someone had hit me on the head. The others in the reading room kept staring at me whenever I was startled awake. <\/p>\n
I couldn\u2019t afford to spend much on food so I used to buy cheap sweets from the nearest supermarket and put two apples in my pocket. That was pretty much my food for the day. Sometimes when I only had fare money in my pockets, the two apples and an air of detachment were enough. I\u2019d go out of the reading room to eat, but sometimes I\u2019d think about pushing aside all the books in front of me, neatly arranging the two apples, taking a knife out of my coat pocket and cutting the apples in eight slices each, then eating them slowly with my eyes closed.<\/p>\n
This library life lasted for about three months, even longer. I\u2019d always get the most complex books from the philosophy section. I kept expecting one of the librarians to tell me I was one of the few guys who read such difficult books or even that they had never seen anyone even touch them, that they admired me and would like to know me, communicate with me, ask me why I kept coming there daily and reading books that were not understood by most people. But those obnoxious women would chat away the entire day disturbing my readings and my painful sleep, not even allowing me to eat my two apples as I\u2019d imagined.<\/p>\n
In that same period I felt every ounce of willpower I had being crushed, dead even at the muscle, or whatever organ it\u2019s born from. My will lay rotten inside me. That Engine that had once made me go to this or that shop, to that building, to pick up that mug or perform any action, now proved to be but a measly illusion which had lasted for 13 years, during which I\u2019d learnt nothing other than learning for school. Once I refused to be a cog in the Engine I\u2019d become completely useless. <\/p>\n
Nothing happened during that time. Absolutely nothing. And this lasted for weeks, months on end. I\u2019d reached the point where I didn\u2019t see the purpose of holidays or even days-off in general. I felt that randomness was the origin of everything. I was always waiting, for the sound of the phone or a text message from someone. Yet only the people from Orange kept bugging me with their options and stupid announcements. I kept waiting for someone to come in and check if I was still alive, still good for anything, if my conscience was functioning enough for me to go out or go to the toilet, if I still remembered there was an \u2018outside\u2019.<\/p>\n
I was thinking about my classmates who\u2019d be laughing their heads off about me saying something like: \u2018Look what\u2019s become of him. He used to be a straight A student, even a genius with his way complex way of thinking and solving other people\u2019s papers when they asked him to. He even solved a couple of exercises for me at break. I thought he\u2019d end up studying engineering or whatever, something that would take him further in life, but look at him now\u2026\u2019<\/p>\n
It was during the time when I took two pills. I had no idea what they were for or why I\u2019d swallowed them, but I had to try something new and I felt that a different substance was entering my body, so something new was going to happen. I was feeling strange, I wanted to look for other pills and take them. Any kind of pills I could find in the drawers, maybe I\u2019d feel other strange new sensations. But I fell asleep at my table without knowing whether I would wake up. In fact, I even set myself a challenge on the table: \u2018Can these two unknown pills knock me out? Will swallowing them be the last thing I do? We\u2019ll see tomorrow.\u2019 And before I lost touch with reality, I had a thought; I don\u2019t have the slightest idea where it came from. The thought was that it was time to get my life back on track.<\/p>\n
It was 11:34 a.m. I woke up at my reading table. I got up, the lamp was on, there was a mug on the floor. It wasn\u2019t broken. I stood up, put the kettle on and tried to remember why I\u2019d woken up at the table, how I fell asleep there and what was with the headache and especially the stomach ache. Then an image of the red pills flashed before my eyes. Oh yeah, that\u2019s right, the challenge. The two unknown pills I\u2019d swallowed. Hmm, it seemed they hadn\u2019t succeeded though. Damn, they hadn\u2019t managed to knock anything out; just as useless as me. Then the thought: to get my life back on track. <\/p>\n
I decided to wake up the next day at 6:30 a.m. When I woke up, I suddenly got a vile headache and told myself \u2018Man, I understand you want to get your life back on track, whatever that means, but this is too much. Waking up out of the blue at 6:30, after months of getting up at 10 or 11, slow down!\u2019 I splashed some water on my face, but the horrible headache didn\u2019t stop. It was still dark outside and I told myself that I had rarely seen that part of the day at 6:40 a.m. In fact, I only remember waking up about 5 times at that kind of hour the whole year. I decided to go to the sociological survey company where I\u2019d done some work a while before. I got some questionnaires for a survey I was going to carry out in a really ugly, far away town called Nisporeni. <\/p>\n
So there I was in the Nisporeni district centre where I\u2019d been before. I said to myself \u2018Yeah, there\u2019s the city hall, there\u2019s the secondary school. There\u2019s the bar I went to in desperation, cursing this lousy town with no street indexes, not even an old one written in Cyrillic.\u2019 I went in and wanted to drink some hard liquor to give me courage, but there were these guys who started asking me where I was from, what I was looking for round there, in case I might be hustling in their district centre, what the deal was with the blue coat I was wearing, why blue; I got pissed off and left. Well, now I can say that I know the places to avoid there, that I can get away almost unscathed. You\u2019d be surprised how easily those places see guys like me coming and thinking we might make it without being diddled that day. <\/p>\n
Well, I set off with 15 questionnaires in my bag, each of them 20 pages long, full of ridiculous questions that would make even me laugh if someone asked me them. I\u2019d have sent the interviewer packing if he\u2019d wanted to fill out a questionnaire like that with me, but fortunately or unfortunately, I was the interviewer. I said to myself \u2018I wish you a ton of luck, man, the one who chose to get his life back on track in this way\u2019. The questions were about the level of crime in the community, the level of personal security, how the justice system does its job. Questions like: have you had your car, motorcycle, bicycle, livestock, or things from your house stolen; have you been physically, sexually or verbally assaulted; have you been threatened, with or without a weapon, have you reported it to the police, why\u2026<\/p>\n
I wandered around the muddy roads in the cold for more than two hours without finding one person to do a questionnaire with. What the hell! Where are all you guys? Where are you hiding? Huh? It seemed the villagers had made a pact so none of them would come out and agree to do a questionnaire. Probably after my last visit, the villagers had said something like \u2018Hey guys, listen up. If you see a short humpbacked boy, dressed in a blue jacket with a bag hanging on his right shoulder running around aimlessly as if he got lost and has no clue what he\u2019s doing here, make sure you don\u2019t cross his path! No, no, don\u2019t even try that. And if he slowly approaches any of you and starts talking in a weird way, send him packing with one of those lines, you know the sort\u2019. <\/p>\n
And they\u2019re right, all day I was screaming in my mind \u2018What am I doing here? How did I end up back in this stinky Nisporeni? I promised myself that I would never set foot here again. Never ever!\u2019 But finally I found it. It was sitting there well hidden. Yes, it turned up, I finally found it. The doorbell. It was hanging on a gate. Ah, dear doorbell, you can\u2019t imagine how much I love you. I got close to it and touched it really gently and rrring, rrring. A woman in her mid-forties came out. I started yapping \u2018My name is Ion Buzu. I\u2019m taking part in a survey launched by the Soros Foundation regarding the levels of felony in the Republic of Moldova, the level of personal security and how satisfied you are with the activity of the judicial and police bodies\u2026\u2019 And I started reading the questions. I asked her what she thought about the behaviour of judges and she said that she\u2019d never dealt with them so she couldn\u2019t answer.
\n\u2018Well, in your opinion, how do you think they\u2019re doing their job?\u2019
\n\u2018I don\u2019t know, I\u2019ve never dealt with one.\u2019
\n\u2018But do you have an opinion about this?\u2019
\n\u2018I don\u2019t know, I\u2019m going inside, my food is getting burnt. Enough of this!\u2019
\nAnd she locked the door. <\/p>\n
Well, it was 1 p.m. and I\u2019d done only one questionnaire out of 15. Everywhere I saw chains and giant locks hanging on gates, as if to spite me, shouting \u2018Nah, you loser, in your face!\u2019
\nENOUGH!
\nI couldn\u2019t stand looking at houses on the streets. I headed for the blocks of flats. \u2018There\u2019ll be more doorbells over there. I\u2019ll fall in love with them, right? Over there I won\u2019t see the chains and giant locks laughing in my face.\u2019 But shortly, the doorbells proved illusory, mocking even. Seeing all the locks on gates I realised that most of the statistics were a lie. The representative population, meaning the sample selected for the survey either wasn\u2019t at home, didn\u2019t have the time or wasn\u2019t there. So all that was left were the pensioners, the unemployed, the depressed, the ones on vacation. The figures for which I had crawled to and fro trying to find people to answer my questions were not worth the paper they were written on. <\/p>\n
Finally, I reached the blocks of flats, entered a building, pushed and rrring. A guy with his mouth full came out, chewing some kind of food, with sauce dripping down his chin and said \u2018Whatcha want?\u2019 I started yapping again \u2018I represent the company of sociological surveys which at the request of\u2026\u2019 He stopped chewing, stared at me and at the same time looked in confusion at my feet, he looked me up and down, blinked a couple of times, looked at the papers with questions I was holding in my hands, blinked then said \u2018Get outta here and leave me alone!\u2019 He went back inside and slammed the door behind him. <\/p>\n
I had to take down all the rejections and the reasons for them. And then came more and more rejections and the sound of doors slamming. Lines like: \u2018I don\u2019t have time.\u2019 \u2018I don\u2019t want to.\u2019 \u2018It\u2019s not worth it, you\u2019re wasting your time.\u2019 \u2018What? Nah, no way, can\u2019t you see I got nothing to do with that.\u2019 \u2018I don\u2019t understand anything you\u2019re saying.\u2019 \u2018Right, I understand, get lost.\u2019 became the only things I heard in the following 2 hours. I gave up on jotting them down because they were becoming boring and didn\u2019t even make me laugh anymore. I even wanted to sit down somewhere and start crying because I was a sucker and what\u2019s more I\u2019d got up at 6:30 a.m. I just wanted to get the hell out, back on the minivan, get home, look for all sorts of pills again, swallow them and fall asleep.
\nI rang another doorbell and a man in a brown shirt answered. I started with my introduction and he said \u2018Well come on in, it\u2019s not nice to stand outside. Take a seat, I\u2019m sure you\u2019re tired and your feet are killing you.\u2019 I said to myself in utter confusion \u2018What is this? I\u2019m still in Nisporeni. Why did he agree to answer? It\u2019s not right, there\u2019s something suspicious about this man.\u2019 So I started reading the questions.
\n\u2018Do you have a gun?\u2019
\n\u2018Yes, of course I do. A shotgun. I\u2019ll show it to you right away.\u2019
\n\u2018No, no, you don\u2019t have to. Please, let\u2019s continue the interview\u2026\u2019 and I saw the thick handle, the trigger, the barrel, the drop of sweat falling from my forehead onto my hand, I saw my leg shaking and my chest moving up and down faster and faster.
\n\u2018Here it is. It\u2019s a pretty good shotgun. Look at the permit as well, it\u2019s all legal. Write there in your papers that it\u2019s all legal. Write.\u2019
\n\u2018Aha, thank you very much, I\u2019m writing.\u2019
\nI was already half paralysed with fear, the guy could have been half nuts. You never know. I mean, he welcomed me into his home and he was willing to answer my ridiculous questions. I\u2019d be surprised if he weren\u2019t half nuts.
\nAt the end, I asked for his name and he walked over to his safe, where he had taken the gun from. He unlocked it using the key. Shit! I said to myself \u2018Maybe the guy is more than half nuts, now he\u2019s taking out the gun and bam! My brains will be decorating his apartment. You never know how or to whom you can prove useful. I never saw myself decorating apartments, especially in this unusual way. The guy could possibly be like me. Nice, decent, lucid, kind, bearable, but in the end he\u2019d go completely crazy and deform my skull. Then he\u2019d take a seat, light a cigarette, look at the window, at the blood on the floor, smoke, check what brand of cigarette he\u2019s holding in his hand, smoke, look carefully at the lighter, look out the window at the children playing and singing stuff they learnt in primary school, get up and say \u2018What happened?\u2019 But the gentleman took out his ID and handed it to me
\n\u2018Here. I don\u2019t want to give any false information, write down everything you need.\u2019
\nThen I got up myself, thanked him and he said
\n\u2018Here, I don\u2019t have time to make you a coffee, but take some apples. You can pop one in your mouth on the way. I know you\u2019re hungry and it\u2019s hard on you.\u2019
\n\u2018Thank you very much.\u2019
\n\u2018Thank you for stopping by and talking to me. It was a real pleasure. People don\u2019t really drop by my apartment; the doorbell hasn\u2019t rung in quite some time. I thought it had stopped working. That\u2019s why I dallied a bit when you rang, I didn\u2019t understand what that buzzing was.\u2019
\n\u2018Well, I understand, I know the feeling. I\u2019m glad as well. Maybe I\u2019ll stop by next time too.\u2019
\n\u2018All the best.\u2019<\/p>\n
I was going down the stairs thinking that he was like me. The guy was really lonely. I admired him. Maybe he\u2019s the kind of guy who\u2019s more than half nuts, like me. I kept looking at the apples he had given me and couldn\u2019t stop being amazed.
\nThen it seemed like the gods were smiling on me and the rejections took a break. There would be some young couple who\u2019d say \u2018Ok, sure, I have the time it takes.\u2019 I went into their kitchen and did the questionnaire with the guy. I reached the question about whether he had been sexually assaulted, but I didn\u2019t say sexually. I said physically and he said yes. He thought I meant had he been beaten up, but I wrote down sexually assaulted.
\n\u2018How many persons were there involved?\u2019
\n\u2018Three.\u2019
\n\u2018Where did the incident take place?\u2019
\n\u2018In front of the building.\u2019
\n\u2018Have you reported it to the police?\u2019
\n\u2018No.\u2019
\n\u2018Why not?\u2019
\n\u2018It wasn\u2019t serious.\u2019
\n\u2018Aha, I understand. Thank you.\u2019
\nAnd I left.<\/p>\n
There were a couple of elderly people who had the goodwill to invite me inside, even turn off the TV and turn down the stove. I had done 8 questionnaires in total and I was already late for the minivan. I started running, but I got kind of lost through the building. I ran and ran\u2026 Shit! More buildings. I ran in a different direction. \u2018I don\u2019t understand why there are bushes here, and yes, of course, even more buildings. Wait a minute dude, what\u2019s going on here? Where\u2019s the road?\u2019 I looked at the time and it was 5:06 p.m. \u2018Is the minivan at 5 or 5:30? Oh, please let it be at 5:30, otherwise I\u2019m screwed.\u2019 Nisporeni was 80 km from Chi\u015fin\u0103u and all I had in my pocket was 24 lei for the fare. Who would have crawled 80 km from Chi\u015fin\u0103u just to pick me up? I kept spinning around those buildings when I ran into a man hands in pocket, whistling.
\nI asked him:
\n\u2018Excuse me, how can I get to the city hall?\u2019
\n\u2018Make a left and go straight ahead, then left again and straight ahead.\u2019
\n\u2018Thank you\u2019 I shouted to him as I was running.
\nI was already breathing heavily and I had a pain on the side. When I was in Year 12 we named the organs the ones on the left side and the ones on the right side. Well, I had a pain on the left side. But hey, what do you want from me? It was already 5:15 and I wasn\u2019t even sure if the last minivan was at 5:30. So I reached the train station, I saw the minivan \u2013 it hadn\u2019t started its engine yet. I was saved, again. Waaait. It was 5:25. I rested for 2 minutes to catch my breath then I said to myself I needed to find a restroom or some trees or at least a collapsing wall\u2026 anything. It was a two hour ride and Jesus, I\u2019d been holding it in all day long. And I\u2019d kept sipping from the coffee I\u2019d poured myself in a Pepsi bottle. Hmm, no wonder the locals despised me. They were probably thinking \u2018Look at that little bastard, drinking Pepsi and I\u2019m drinking tap water. I mean, I answer his questions and he keeps on drinking Pepsi on my account. He gets money for the questionnaires he\u2019s doing with me and I\u2019m still drinking plain tap water? Nah, forget it!\u2019<\/p>\n
In the minivan I opened my bag and saw the apples. I took one and bit on it. The apple of a loner, who kept his shotgun in a safe next to his ID and drivers\u2019 license, almost nuts, just like me.
\n\u2018Right. 1,2,3,4,5,6\u202616. Done. Here we go\u2019 said the driver and turned on some wedding folk music.
\nThe next day at 6:30 a.m. I had my eyes open, or at least I was trying to keep them open.
\nAnyway, I had to do the other 7 questionnaires. But I felt a chill go down my spine. All those rejections. All those people who weren\u2019t home. Really, Nisporeni had good immunity against interviewers. How could I fight that? I didn\u2019t know whether to get out of bed or drop it. Still, I got out and headed for the train station. Eventually I made it to Nisporeni after I\u2019d seen three fire-engines in my village. In the evening I found out that someone might have set fire to the House of Culture. Ah well, when I reached Nisporeni I headed in a different direction and walked and walked and walked. Not a single house. Not a single house without the lock on, nothing. I kept walking and walking and searching, praying for someone to come up. I walked like that for more than three hours and I had nothing to do. I kept saying to myself \u2018God, what is going on? What is this place? Where\u2019s everybody? Have they made a pact to hide? Have they managed to let everyone know in one night? Or maybe I\u2019m backward, a guy with a special mental disease that has yet to be discovered. Maybe I should hand myself in to the authorities so they can study my rare case of learning difficulty.\u2019 And it happened. A boy slightly taller than me came out; he was looking down. I explained to him who I was, what I was doing and what I needed him to answer. He opened the door, took a few steps back and looking down, said in really low voice \u2018Come in!\u2019
\nI started asking him the questions:
\n\u2018Age?\u2019
\nHe was looking down. He waited for about 30 seconds and without looking up said \u201820\u2019.
\nAnd he kept looking down. Staring at something or just looking.
\n\u2018Do you think the crime level in your town has risen, remained the same or dropped?\u2019
\nHe was looking down and sometimes he would move his head slowly, without looking up.
\n\u2018Remained the same.\u2019 he said.
\nHe waited for about half a minute after every question. Was he semi autistic? He answered with difficulty and only looked down.
\nI thanked him, he nodded and replied in a low voice, still looking down:
\n\u2018You\u2019re welcome, have a safe trip.\u2019
\nHe turned around and walked slowly as if measuring the distance with the soles of his feet; as if in slow motion.
\nI went to another block of flats and rang a doorbell. A woman came out and said:
\n\u2018No, no, we can\u2019t answer this kind of questions. We don\u2019t do that crime stuff, no. Try across the hall.\u2019
\nI ring at the apartment across the hall and this 26ish year old boy answered and said:
\n\u2018I\u2019m sorry, I don\u2019t have time. I\u2019m eating now and after that I\u2019m going to work. Try across the hall (the apartment of the woman before). The people over there have loads of time. Sorry.\u2019
\nI went into a different building, rang a doorbell and a guy yawing comes out. I told him that I was doing a survey requested by the Soros Foundation and all of that. He yawned and said:
\n\u2018No, I\u2026 I don\u2019t know about that stuff. I thought you wanted something to eat. See, I\u2019m holding one leu in my hand. But questionnaires, no\u2026 Oh, yeah, in this building there\u2019s no one else. There\u2019s a man above, just like me, I don\u2019t think he\u2019s going to answer either, so\u2026\u2019
\nBut there were others who shrugged their shoulders and said \u2018Fine, if it\u2019s only for 10 minutes. Go ahead, shoot.\u2019 How I loved those people, but I couldn\u2019t say the same thing about them as well because they kept nodding and saying \u2018I thought you said only 10 minutes and I\u2019ve already been standing in front of you for 25. Man, that bible of yours is big.\u2019<\/p>\n
I entered the hallway of a girl who lived with her mother. I asked her reading off the piece of paper if she\u2019d been threatened. She said yes.
\n\u2018With or without a gun?\u2019
\n\u2018With a gun.\u2019
\nShe signalled me to talk in a lower voice so her mother wouldn\u2019t hear. I came closer to her. She said he hadn\u2019t threatened her that seriously; he just waved the gun in front of her. He was an ex-boyfriend. I finished the questionnaire and got out.
\nI rang another doorbell and a fat gypsy woman came out. She started cursing me. A man came and calmed her. I heard from inside: \u2018Send that idiot away, can\u2019t you see he\u2019s making you stupid?!\u2019 The man answered: \u2018Shut up, get back inside and shut up \u2019cause he\u2019s interesting to me.\u2019
\nI asked him what penalty he thought a young man who had never stolen anything in his life should suffer if he did steal something, like a colour TV.
\n\u2018Well, community work. No, not prison. It\u2019s too harsh.\u2019
\nI asked another question:
\n\u2018Have you ever been sexually assaulted?\u2019
\n \u2018I wish. No, I\u2019m stuck with\u2026 you saw who and I\u2019ve never had the pleasure of being sexually assaulted…\u2019
\nI finished the questionnaire and looked for another apartment.
\nFinally, it was 4:25 p.m. A little old man opens the door. He was about my height, bald and smiley. He invited me inside. \u2018Take a seat there, yes, on the armchair. There you go, yes.\u2019
\nHe gave me his phone number from the outset. I had to take the phone number of all the respondents so that the people from the office could check if I had indeed talked to them and not forged the questionnaires. I started asking him about felonies:
\n\u2018Do you think the level of felonies has risen in the past 5 years?\u2019
\n\u2018Look here, I\u2019ve served in the German army. I even have a medal; I can show it to you. And now Igor is in Italy. Yes, Italy, I\u2019m left all alone except for a man I don\u2019t even know that well sitting all day in his pyjamas at my place. But Igor hasn\u2019t visited in a long time; he sends some money from time to time. Igor \u2013 my son.\u2019
\n\u2018Yes, but about the felonies, what do you think? Has the level risen or not?\u2019
\n\u2018I can tell you I\u2019ve served in the German army, but now I\u2019ve started drinking. I\u2019m a drunk, I pass daily by that bar on the corner. Do you see it? Well, I get something to drink over there every day and I feel good.\u2019
\nHe coughed and said:
\n\u2018I apologise, but you understand, I drink and I apologise.\u2019
\nHe smiled and coughed again. I asked another question:
\n\u2018Do you have a bicycle in your household?\u2019
\n\u2018Yes, I do. I\u2019ll show it to you right away. I have two grandkids as well, Vasea and Ani\u015foara. I\u2019ll show them to you right away. I ride my bicycle to go get my booze.\u2019
\nHe took me to a parlour and showed me some photos.
\n\u2018Here are my grandkids. Look, there I am when I had hair. Look, there\u2019s the bicycle, ha ha ha.\u2019
\nWe were both smiling. He kept coughing, apologising and reminding me that he drank and that he had served in the German army. But he was a drunk, he didn\u2019t do much and he felt good that way. I shook his hand and thanked him. I went out, almost happy, almost surprised. \u2018I don\u2019t know, it seems that the only decent people around here are the wacky ones\u2019 I said to myself.
\nI ran again for the minivan, scared I was running in the wrong direction. But I made it to the train station. I pissed against a crumbling wall again and felt a sort of release I\u2019d missed for a long time. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
by Ion Buzu (Republica Moldova) Translation from Romanian: Maria Jastrzebska and Mircea Filimon, MTTLC student pentru versiunea rom\u00e2n\u0103 click aici It was during that time when I was doing extramural studies at the university and I very rarely went in. I only had classes two weeks a term – a couple of hours each – […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[704,22],"tags":[1151,360,703,520,1116,312],"class_list":["post-6163","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-egophobia-29-30","category-short-story","tag-egophobia-29-30","tag-ion-buzu","tag-maria-jastrzebska","tag-mircea-filimon","tag-short-story","tag-translation"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6DakB-1Bp","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6163","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=6163"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6163\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6338,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6163\/revisions\/6338"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=6163"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=6163"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=6163"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}