She had turned thirteen over the summer. Over the course of that sun-filled, open air summer spent in the countryside, forms that were only just outlines had become more precise. Leaving home as a little girl, she had come back as…something else. Seeing herself in the mirror, she had failed to recognize the plump teenage girl, staring back at her. Her body was a place where she no longer felt home. A new planet with its mounts and valleys. And its secret spots. This new body of hers had whims of its own, was troubled by desire that left her trembling. At the thought, she tended to feel a shiver of some sorts down there. The word always felt foreign to her, when she rolled it on her tongue. Vagina. Koko. Bouboun. Chouchoun1. So many names to refer to it in her language. All of them seeming somehow…dangerous. Always made her think of the favorite saying of one of her teachers, an alteration of a quote from Camus, “Not to name things is to add to the misfortune of the world”.

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