Two days pass. I hardly sleep. I sleep with Vasco, hear him fall asleep, get up again. There is something transparent about the colour of my eyes, about the skin around my eyes. I sit by the window, and I don’t try to work. When it gets light I go to bed again, sleep for maybe half an hour, wake up with my body pressed against his spine. The printed ticket is lying on the windowsill, and we don’t talk about the fact that he is leaving. The daffodils in front of the house are in bloom, Linnea lives inexplicably easily in our presence.

Sun, She Says is the story of Anna. She lives on a small farm, not far from the sea. She takes care of Linnea, the daughter of her friend Judit. Her boyfriend lives in Portugal. They meet when they can. A long time passes between the meetings. One day in April Anna gets on the plane to Lisbon without Vasco’s knowledge.

Sun, She Says is a concise and illuminating novel about belonging, uprooting and disappearing. It’s about ways of being close to others, and about ways of being apart.