"This is the story of those who could not leave, those who left and returned, and those who returned and stayed. Familiar, classic... Leaving deep scars like chickenpox, heavy like lead.
The characters in Yoksa, wandering between the layers of memory, are often abandoned to their own fates, “like gas stations in long, distant, remote places, heartbreaking in their abandonment, crookedness, and solitude.” In the sickly apartment buildings where life has cast them, “carrying the traces of screams that lengthen and shorten on damp walls, of resisting lives, of raw dreams, of women nursing immoderate passions, of men exchanging curses,” they hover on the thin line between innocence and guilt. Everything happens in an instant; “in the blink of an eye, in the time it takes to swipe an transit card... In the time it takes for a sparrow to take flight from a branch, for a cormorant to snatch a fish. In a sixtieth of a degree.”
In that fleeting moment, a distant memory etched into the psyche of childhood comes full circle to find its owner..."