There are three of them and they have no names: they are a family whose roles superseded by destiny. This is the story of man’s struggle for dignity of a man who has only a short time left to live. In the first months of lockdown a mother and son struggle against bureaucracy to be able to visit the father in hospital and to fulfil his last wish to return to their Dalmatian terrace just as the cherries blossom and the swallows’ nests are full of hatchlings.
In this novel, Prtenjaca deals with loss, short-lived hope and memory, his voice is that of a child – one that asks questions – alongside that of a mature voice of a man who has to make difficult decisions. These voices overlap in a rhythmical exchange of scenes and images from the past and the present, comprising an elegy in which love reverberates like the sound of cymbals. There’s three of them, and they have no names. Sometimes they seem alone in this world.