Nino Haratisvili Vos-maa Zizn- Skacat- Page

She took out her phone and called her mother.

Skachat . Leap.

But Nina’s life had never been proper. It had been loud, Georgian-loud: feasts that lasted until dawn, arguments that shattered wine glasses, a father who danced on tables and died in a hospital corridor, alone, because the proper visiting hours hadn’t started yet. nino haratisvili vos-maa zizn- skacat-