Bila je zaljubljena u sinovljevog pedijatra. Sama na selu – ko bi joj mogao zame riti. Postojala je u toj ljubavi i klica velike strasti. A opet je to bila i bezbedna stvar. Čovek je bio na drugoj strani barijere. Između njega i nje: dete na st lu za preglede, sama ordinacija, osoblje, njegova žena, njen muž, njegov stetoskop, njegova brada, njene grudi, njegove naočare, njene naočare, itd.
Gotovo svakog jutra, izvesna žena u našem kraju istrčava iz kuće bleda kao kreč, u kaputu koji ludački leprša oko nje. Viče: „Uzbuna, uzbuna“, i neko od nas joj priđe i onda je pridržava sve dok se ti njeni strahovi ne primire. Znamo da ona sve to uobražava; ništa joj se u stvari nije desilo. Ali razumemo, jer teško da ima jednog među nama koji bar po nekad nije osetio potrebu da učini isto što i ona, i svaki put, potrebna nam je bila sva snaga kojom raspolažemo, pa čak i snaga naših prijatelja i naših porodica, da bi nas primirila.
Noću je bio drugačiji čovek. Šta god ona ujutru znala o njemu, noću je jedva mogla da ga prepozna: bled neki čovek, siv, čovek u braon džemperu, čovek tamnih očiju koji je drži na odstojanju, koji se lako vređa, koji nije razložan. Ujutru, bio je ružičasti kralj, blistav, glatkih obraza i glatke brade, oprašen mirisnim talkom, kad bi izronio na sunce sa širokim zagrljajem u onom svom karo kućnom ogrtaču carski crvene boje…
Prevela Arijana Božović
What She Knew
People did not know what she knew, that she was not really a woman but a man, often a fat man, but more often, probably, an old man. The fact that she was an old man made it hard for her to be a young woman. It was hard for her to talk to a young man, for instance, though the young man was clearly interested in her. She had to ask herself. Why is this young man flirting with this old man?
The Dog Man
A man in our office is really a dog. He does not do well, is slow and clumsy though extremely good-natured. There is also a dog in our town who is really a man and is tormented by his inability to handle things and to express himself and thus cannot be good-natured but is sly and furtive and ashamed of himself. He is hated by everyone and kicked into the corner of the room. Of course that is only one kind of dog who is really a man: another kind of dog who is really a man is like the man who is really a dog in our office, and he does very well because he is really most comfortable as a dog.
She stands over a fish, thinking about certain irrevocable mistakes she has made today. Now the fish has been cooked, and she is alone with it. The fish is for her—there is no one else in the house. But she has had a troubling day. How can she cat this fish, cooling on a slab of marble? And yet the fish, too, motionless as it is, and dismantled from its bones, and fleeced of its silver skin, has never been so completely alone as it is now: violated in a final manner and regarded with a weary eye by this woman who has made the latest mistake of her day and done this to it.