Dorota Maslowska

HONEY, I KILLED THE CATS   (an excerpt) Honey, I Killed The Cats A novel by Dorota Masłowska Translated from the Polish by...
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Walerian Domanski

Blazej was relieved; thank God there were no anti-government flyers! He looked at the huge banner hung on the front wall of the two-story bus station and tried to read the inscription: “WE WANT TO LIVE BETTER…”

Agnieszka Dale

Like all great Polish writers living in the South of France with a wife who bows, just bows, and does it so beautifully that it is almost painful, Jakub realises—more and more often—that he doesn’t know if he can or can’t live without his wife, and her bowing.

Mirka Szychowiak

I take a taxi back to earth, my tears dripping onto the upholstered seat. The driver turns around, worried.

Mirka Szychowiak

Kitchen full of black aunties sighed, outraged with Grandma’s lack of respect for the written word and the bloody stamp in the corner of the page. Nobody questioned the war death. She was the only one who put her foot down.

Andrzej Bursa

Now I felt rested, strong, young and independent. Whistling, I ran to the bathroom. I would have loved a bath but unfortunately the bathtub was filled with the corpse.

Marek Hlasko

A while later he watched the two men cross the street and climb into the jeep, and for the first time he noticed how much they resembled each other. “This is how it had to be,” he said aloud to himself. “That’s why I came here. To give him my jeep and my money, knowing he’ll waste it all.”

Janusz Rudnicki

How to swallow this new development: the theft of a TV set in the shape of a dog. The earth spins on my account today. My heart rings like a bell, bells are ringing in my ears, I can’t hear a thing.

Agnieszka Taborska

Half a century meanwhile was passing into oblivion, bearing away with it long-haired heroines despairing on Romantic canvases. What its second half would bring remained an enigma to minds exhausted by a strange anxiety. At the end of October no one suspected the time was ripe for Spiritualist séances.

Lidia Amejko

“You feel numbers?” The neurologist looked into my face. “When they report them…” “But its only numbers. Numbers were invented so that we don’t have to feel.” “But when they report that . . .” “They report, they report!! They report about the 1999 or the six million so that they don’t have to think or see it. Numbers are a wall behind which others cry and shed blood!”

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