Chapter 6
Episode 6klisto klupti vaznycia katalikai protestantai .t y relgines genio pTycios koncepto mTe.atikos
The morning light through the barred window of the hotel room fell in stripes across the worn carpet, and Andžela lay still, the scarf bunched under her cheek. It smelled of old dust and the faint, sweet rot of the sugar beet fields she had not seen in thirty years. She had woken with the word klisto in her mouth, a word she had not spoken since childhood, when her grandmother used it to describe the way a door would stick in the damp air of the Lithuanian autumn.
Bruno was already awake, sitting on the edge of his narrow bed, his fingers laced together as if in prayer, though he was not a praying man. His eyes were fixed on the small icon of the Virgin Mary that someone had nailed to the wall above the radiator. The hotel was called New Sky, but the sky outside was the same pale, exhausted grey she remembered from every town she had ever passed through.
“You’re thinking about the church,” she said, her voice rough with sleep.
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