letter

“Grasunici,

Stiu ca ti-am sustras aceasta foaie sub pretextul scrierii lectiei la planificare. I’m sorry, I can’t do that because I missed (am ratat) the first line. Dear iubi, dear iubi, dear grasunici, dear (*cuvant mult prea obscen aici*), ochisor semi-bulbucat, I’ve watched a change in you. You’ve never written before what this unshaved man says.

Nasuc, your nails have grown bigger and bigger.. Cut them. Have them cut. I know you and L. are together forever together (?!) and you don’t want to make this clear (?!), to show off. Yes, to show off. Yes, yes all you answered (?!) was a smile, a beginning of a silent laugh. You can’t hide it any longer. You’re in love. Into the love.

Look! I mean, try to feel this, to picture this. In your head. Into your little, roundish, blackish, semi-blackish head. You, a little citizen, a little brown-skinned citizen. With grown nails and endlessly long hair. You, a slim body owner. You are forced/urged to stay here. Here, in this blue chiar. Into the blue chair in front of a yellow-blue desk. You’re dreaming of dreams. Forbidden dreams.”

nu stiu ce am vrut sa zic cu asta. e din cutiuta cu amintiri de anul asta.