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Scribe Publications
THE LIMIT
RIIKKA PULKKINEN was born in 1980 and studied literature and philosophy at the University of Helsinki. She is the author of True, which was published in seventeen countries and shortlisted for the 2010 Finlandia Prize for Fiction. The Limit, her debut novel, was a bestseller in Finland and the Netherlands, and won the Kaarle and Laila Hirvisaari prizes.
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Limit-0010-Imprint.html
First published by Gummerus Publishers with the Finnish title Raja in 2006
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*/ p.Normal { text-align: left; margin-bottom: 1.625em; } p.Normal span.dg-dgen { } /* Chapter-no used 50 times, e.g. Limit-0030-Anja.htmlAnja
*/ p.Chapter-no { text-align: center; } p.Chapter-no span.dg-dgen { font-size: 1.5em; } /* CO used 50 times, e.g. Limit-0030-Anja.htmlON THE DAY Anja Aropalo decided to die, the weather was as sweet and dense as a web of sugar. It was August, and still hot — even the nights were hot, but dark, like summer in the south. Anja woke up in the morning with a clear thought: her plan had to be carried out today. No more hesitation or cowardice. Today was the day.
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*/ span.Small-Caps { } /* x-Body-Text-Indent used 2439 times, e.g. Limit-0030-Anja.htmlAnja Aropalo had been lonely for two years. Loneliness like a stabbing pain under her breastbone ever since her husband left. She could feel it spreading into her whole body; a longing like a strangely physical hurt, a peculiar pain that she couldn’t pin down, a continuous ache. It didn’t usually make her cry, except sometimes at night, when she rolled onto her side and groped at the empty space beside her. Mostly it just ached.
*/ p.x-Body-Text-Indent { text-indent: 1.0em; } p.x-Body-Text-Indent span.dg-dgen { } /* FO-after-break used 100 times, e.g. Limit-0030-Anja.htmlANJA UNDRESSED in front of the mirror in the upstairs bedroom. At fifty-three years old, she was still slender. Her legs were strong and smooth, her stomach tight. Her breasts were lower than they’d been when she was young, a little stretched, but still beautiful. She liked her collarbones and neck the most: when she was younger, their straightness and angularity had made her seem boyish, erect. Now the boyishness had disappeared but the posture was still there, a certain openness in the shoulders. There were lines on her face that she cherished like old friends. They were the mask that experience had formed for her and she felt a deep affection for them.
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We shall feel death’s air under our wings
and become milder and wilder than we ever were
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