She could not feel her own body. She had fallen asleep on the wooden bed, uncaring of lice or bedbugs. Her mother had died when she was thirteen, her two much older sisters had married off—one submissively, one insubordinately; her two brothers had gone out into the world well ahead of her, and so she had made what she could of her father. ‘There was a priest, the father confessor, you understand.
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