This poetic novel seemed to transport me back to medieval times but nothing could be further from the truth. Bekija, a 33-year-old woman living as a man in an Albanian village in 2017, tells her sad life story to a journalist. She’s forced to change sex because of an ancient folk law after an event that defines her life - and that of her brother and lover. I found it a moving tale of sorrow, misunderstanding and oppression.
Kuka's hand clenches my mouth shut, Kuka's hand is now an inextricable part of my face, I take this hand and this stranger's body as my own, ding ding ding ding, I am no longer in this scene, I am witnessing everything from outside my body, my hair swims in the warm milk, my eyes stare into a small hole in the wall which moves in rhythm with the galloping horse, I've never seen it before but there's light coming through the hole in the wall, yes, I see it for the first time and from today on this hole exists because I see it, the hole hurts, it hurts
are you pure
I am pure
don't cry, Bekija, I hear my mother say, let whatever hurts you remain here, and the milk of life floods my black dress and the church bells fall silent, the snake is fed, I close my eyes ...
