He would bide his time, and in the meantime he would live as a man, just like Marina the Monk had in Lebanon. He would bind his breasts and stuff his crotch and bathe in private. He would pretend to shave his face and learn to piss standing up. He would have lovers, and a hundred brothers, and he would be happy, because at long last he’d done what he always dreamed of doing. He’d turned into what he already was.
