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167 pages, Paperback
First published January 3, 2019
"Her name was Athanasia Koutros. She was my mother. The one who gave birth to me. In Greek, her name means "the immortal one," and I find this quite ironic, because, even though I left her so many years ago, the memory of her crawls back to me, burrowing beneath my skin, cementing itself against my ribs so that I find it hard to breathe. Whenever I think of her, my breath gives way, my chest heaves with force, and words escape me, since I cannot reveal her existence."
"As the writer of my narrative, I write my own story, my way. Just like Jane. Just like you."
"You didn't desert me, and, in turn, I have not deserted myself.
I have not forgotten who I am."