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Doina RuSti
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fingers, white and delicate,
were throbbing as if theyhad
been strumming a guitar for
hours on end, and under his
eyelids, through his opaque
skin, a distressed anthill was
moving.
To her, the sleeping man
was only the interlocutor of
this most complicated and
dangerous apparatus.
Alisa’s ears perked up
instinctively. The market
stirred slowly, and the blood
of hundreds of seduced
women let out a unified
sigh.
Bewildered, she took a step,
that last step, which no
woman had dared to make,
and when the treacherous
April breeze passed by her
ears, Alisa thrust her teeth
into the pouting lips of
Eugen the monk.
At first, the vast army went
numb like tongue burnt by
fire, and then, in cutting
silence, one after another,
the bodies of his unbeaten
soldiers fell. And, grieving
for the darkness left over
him, Eugen finally raised his
eyelids.
Alisa was watching with a
single eye, unflinching and
severe.
The market fell silent, and of
the formerly fervent army,
not a trace remained. The
disturbance of Alisa’s teeth,
or her unwavering stare, was
not as great as the pain of
his inner peace. The great,
thirsty tongue became a dry
leaf, and he grew very weak.
All his desire melted, all its
hubris, and sticky birds flew
from 200 hearts.
The women breathed the