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was probably living his last
years, he thought of selling
it, although he didn’t think
he could. “Only a man like
you could see something
worthy of desire about my
house. I can feel you want
to live there. It is clear that
it was not you who chose
the house, it chose you.
I can only wish you have
more luck with it than I had.
Forget what I told you (I so
seldom have the chance to
talk to someone) and bring
the woman you’ll choose
there. It is a good house, sir,
it will be good to you both.”
He sold it to me for seventy-
five thousand lei. Themoney
came from my parents
eventually, for what were
they to do? They borrowed
it from the mutual help
house, they are still paying
instalments today. I had
seen the inside of the house
at the end of the week I had
met the old man, however,
when I first started towards
Maica Domnului with the
ownership deeds in my
briefcase and the entrance
key in my pocket it was as
if I had arrived there for
the first time and, in fact,
it has been the same ever
since. I am always surprised
and charmed with the
melancholic
putridness
around, with the silence and
the outlandish remoteness
of that street, different
from any other. I only feel
this tormenting happiness
in the afternoons when I am
almost asleep and, in a flash,
I remember the landscapes
from my essential dreams.
I come into my house,
always, as into a great
womb. I can almost hear