Editura: Carte/Fictiune/Moderni, contemporani
His ancestors’ house had been built in 1177, on the place of a well gone dry. A hidden descent into darkness. Centuries later, the communists confiscated the house. Years after that, here he is, climbing to the attic. Broken windows, ghostly walls, birds’ nests — pigeons fly out with fast beating wings. One bird stays behind unafraid. Grey feathers, a white halo, eyes in his. Its feet are resting on some papers written in green ink. Faded. He holds out his hand and slowly pu
