120 Days , livre ebook

icon

81

pages

icon

English

icon

Ebooks

2019

Écrit par

Publié par

icon jeton

Vous pourrez modifier la taille du texte de cet ouvrage

Lire un extrait
Lire un extrait

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne En savoir plus

Découvre YouScribe en t'inscrivant gratuitement

Je m'inscris

Découvre YouScribe en t'inscrivant gratuitement

Je m'inscris
icon

81

pages

icon

English

icon

Ebook

2019

icon jeton

Vous pourrez modifier la taille du texte de cet ouvrage

Lire un extrait
Lire un extrait

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne En savoir plus

'Noel, you mentioned 120 days several times and I want you to tell me what that means.' '120 days? Yes, I will tell you, why not? But what will I win?' 'Yourself!' As smart as he is damaged, Noel, an internationally renowned writer on psychology, has been detained in a mental health clinic after hearing voices and attempting suicide. Christina, the doctor assigned to examine him, has her own concerns, not least her complicated family life. The growing friendship between these two intelligent, complex people is threatened by the 'many guests' Noel has in his head. Ekavi Korouli's remarkable book is distinguished by its unusual, kaleidoscopic style, which portrays the actions and shifting emotions of her characters with truth and compassion.
Voir icon arrow

Date de parution

30 avril 2019

Nombre de lectures

0

EAN13

9781528954334

Langue

English

120 Days
Ekavi Korouli
Austin Macauley Publishers
2019-04-30
120 Days About The Author About The Book Dedication Copyright Information
About The Author
Ekavi Korouli was born in 1981 in a small Georgian city, Batumi. She is a Greece-based Georgian writer, an economist by profession. She has been writing since childhood and also paints and writes classical music. Her debut was held in 2015 with the book My Wife, My Patient . She moved to Greece from Georgia as a child and still lives there with her son.
About The Book
’ Noel, you mentioned 120 days several times and I want you to tell me what that means.’
‘120 days? Yes, I will tell you, why not? But what will I win?’
‘Yourself!’
As smart as he is damaged, Noel, an internationally renowned writer on psychology, has been detained in a mental health clinic after hearing voices and attempting suicide. Christina, the doctor assigned to examine him, has her own concerns, not least her complicated family life. The growing friendship between these two intelligent, complex people is threatened by the ‘many guests’ Noel has in his head.
Ekavi Korouli’s remarkable book is distinguished by its unusual, kaleidoscopic style, which portrays the actions and shifting emotions of her characters with truth and compassion.
Dedication
To my mother, Maia Kekelidze.
Copyright Information
Copyright © Ekavi Korouli (2019)
The right of Ekavi Korouli to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781788482967 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781788482974 (Hardback)
ISBN 9781788482981 (Kindle e-book)
ISBN 9781528954334 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2019)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
25 Canada Square
CanaryWharf
London
E14 5LQ

‘Noel, take this as well.’ She pointed at the third drug, which was still lying on a bedside table.
‘I don’t need water, I will swallow this “miracle” of yours drily,’ he took it hitting his hand and swallowed. Then looked at her ironically and turned to the other side.
‘Are you here?’ As soon as the nurse left, he called and from his bed looked at the one standing in the corner, ‘Because you were wandering in the rainy weather the whole day yesterday, now you will drive me crazy the whole night with your runny nose and sniffling. Yesterday I was planning since morning, even wrote a script what his last minutes would be like for his people. It is perhaps interesting and for me it means freedom, so that I can be outside at least this way. Even milk soufflé was not lacking on his funeral; would you think I said farewell drily? Still, instead of saying thanks, I know she will increase my dose and tell me: “You are free!” She is laughing at me! Do you understand?’ he shouted at the one standing in another corner. “Free”, she says and again sends me to this iron hut.’
‘Hey, you! Don’t you hear when I am speaking to you?’ he called the other voice which had turned to the wall. ‘Turn back!’ The day of the punishment ended. He stood up and went close to the window. Then he turned back and said:
‘Yes, she is laughing at you. You are being punished more when you are sitting in a hut, than behind real bars’ and bent his head.
‘You would go to the cemetery more often to see a person, than here, when he is alive and you would tell him more. I arranged a golden condolence for her and nobody found time to even put her in a hole, I buried her alone, slowly. I could throw her as well; nobody would be able to blame me. Do you hear that? Even a crow didn’t come to take her soul, what an irony…’ She was taking care of others and now her naked soul is lying somewhere near her body, there, at the grave, as if it is a fabric aged on her shoulders. I don’t think she would be afraid, she comes with muddy shoes, is used to the ground. I don’t need thanks; stop looking at me with those grateful eyes! But no! She will still sit there like an aurochs and punish me with that pen thrust in her fingers, with which nobody knows what Mrs. Christina will write. And who turned her into a lady? Her trousers are more manly than mine and her hair? It is shorter than mine, as if she is waiting to get an X-ray on her head, if she had a more beautiful skull, that would be understandable, but she is a woman, mother of four children and that’s enough for some. Say something!’ he shouted at the one who had turned to the wall and got closer.
‘When will we go home?’ again spoke the one with a runny nose from the first corner, ‘I can’t even read “children’s” books, I just look through them as if they were magazines; when will I reach the cover to stand up joyfully and shout, “I have finished!” maybe the teacher can let me go earlier, as in school, Noel do you remember?’ and laughed out loud.
‘She is repetitive and what do you expect from someone who is?’ the one standing in the third corner was saying while drawing the 25 th line on the wall. ‘And finally nothing, an empty fact that she had existed, and now farewell. If she had known how many times you have killed her in your brain, she would give you as many awards,’ he looked at Noel and drew another line on the wall with his finger dampened in saliva.
‘The government should award me with epaulettes; do you think it is easy to put up with such an insensible woman?’ Noel was excited by this idea. She would never sit in front of me if she knew, this red-lipped woman, what I feel towards her. Even her lipstick is applied unevenly, her pig teeth appear. If she didn’t squeak, I would slaughter her like a pig. This is eternal! It would remain as an important fact in history. It’s already night, although it is 5 o’clock. What can we do, here the sun and moon will rise whenever they say it, before you blink your eyes, they will follow!’ he roared in the white ward and threw his body painfully on bed… he started crawling the pillow with his beard. There was only this sound heard in the darkened chamber. ‘When will the moon rise, I wonder? And this bastard sneaked out too.’ Suddenly he rose his head, ’I have my peculiarity, that’s why I am called a respectable name. For instance, a red nail polish on a woman. This morning, when I woke up I imagined that everyone in the city walks so, and when they wear it on thick, short fingers, it reminds me of a worm with tumor. I take a handkerchief from my pocket and cover the one sitting in front of me with it, I imagined her anxious face too, how humiliated she feels, when this fabric wiping runny nose, touches her polished hands and she is ready to send me to hell. But I am also driven crazy at that time! Do you remember when once a guest visited with my aunt? I could not avoid looking at her fingers, once I even turned my back to her, but my aunt’s angry gaze drilled my shoulders, attacked my lungs and stopped my conscious breathing. On each of her admirations, the red colors fluttered in front of me like a fan. I managed to look at her for 5 more minutes. I could not hear her appraisal anymore. My ears were impounded from exerts. I still wonder how my neck vessel did not burst. I imagined, how bitterly I am holding my neck, to stop the bleeding, but when I notice that my nails are also being colored like theirs, I let go and run out of blood completely, I pushed my head so painfully that I almost broke my neck. I emptied my mind and gathered the thoughts again. I stood up modestly. I brought my cologne and cotton and asked her to remove her nail polish. My aunt was looking at me with an upset face and bitten lips. I was standing there still and waiting when my request would be completed.
***
He opened his eyes at Sam, looked down and expressed a surprise.
‘You have got up earlier than me, well done you! This is what it means to have armed soldiers.’ He raised slowly, looked at his hand, a part of his flesh was bruised. ‘You see, these dogs made me look like the U.S.A. flag.’
‘They tell us, these are sedatives,’ said the voice of the third corner. ‘And I thought it was something to “moronize” us,’ called out the one with a runny nose while jumping up from the floor.
‘Why don’t you stick out your tongue too? They would recognize you and you would deserve a pat on your head from Mrs. Christina,’ the voice from the third corner was asking Noel.
’I missed that stray dog. I wonder if it knows where I am now. That evening, it was barking, protecting me however it could when they were enthralling me to bring me here. But what did I do to deserve such commitment from it? I was only feeding it with stale bread crust. Both of us had our cuticles torn off. You should have seen how it was following me everywhere I was going, either it was beside me or followed me, as if it could understand the sadness of my loneliness.
Noel stood up, walked up and down in the room, went to the wash-stand and looked into the mirror. He grinded his bearded face with his hand, ‘These bristles terribly prick my face, if only I had a chance to shave every day and then what would be wrong with this place? For 47 days I have still been looking in this small mirror. If I were the size I look there, would I not be able to freely fit through these bars? By looking in this mirror I remembered my childish thoughts, when in the morning I observed people going to work and where there was a shadow, I saw the reflection of my face mixed with theirs. Walking slowly, sad or happy faces gave away their truth and I knew that this was the fault of th

Voir icon more
Alternate Text