The Third Shore depicts a mystical place, too far and too close at the same time, where the community of either rejected or self-claimed dregs of society perform the desperate living. In the place where impurity, cruelty and sin has become the main values, the life beyond the bank is forgotten, so the characters have new names and do whatever their destructive instincts tell them – sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll. The protagonist of the story, outcast Jio, makes a living from playing on harmonica in a subway together with his friend, guitarist Alexander. The subway is their home and shelter, where one day they meet a tattoo artist Nea and her boyfriend Markus, who joins their company with a flute in a guitar case, to grab his piece of adventure in a wild anarchy, until AIDS takes his life. The novel has all the features to surprise the modern experienced reader with its depth, dynamism and the live story. But the most influential is the author’s genuine skill of storytelling, its sincerity and the novelty of the subject. The book was shortlisted for the Literary Award SABA in 2015 in the category The Best Novel of the Year.


EXTRACT
Translated into English by Ekaterine Machitidze

 

There’s nothing like opening your eyes, waking up and, for a while, being unaware of where you are… Yes, awakening this way is my life purpose, the purpose of my life and the life of everyone around me.
And when you wake up this way it doesn’t matter whether you have a splitting headache caused by a hangover or whatever it is, feeling chilly or just burning alive. You feel good, because you realize that yesterday you´ve lived one of your best days, visiting every single place which you could visit, eating and drinking and smoking everything salubrious or decadent, meeting thousands of rats and really nice guys to have a quick one or to smoke with them, playing music with those with whom you like to play it, talking with those you like to talk to and fucking those fucking whom is in your power. So today, again, you’ll do your best to get everything you want. When you lie on such a plane, in a dimension like mine, you can fall to fall across the best and most interesting, ridiculous and even dangerous manifestations of the complex of inferiority marked by hysterics, in its highest degree, and liberty, in its lowest degree, and it’s the same almost everywhere.
Oh, I’ve forgotten to mention the most important thing, the center, the Fane of ours, with the world’s coolest man, a man of the right stamp dwells. Once a priest, in addition to the duties of the club owner, he’s a charismatic doorman, the enemy number one of the honorable ones who keep a healthy lifestyle, an enormous single-eyed red beard, an old drummer filibuster, our patron and protector.That priest taught me the harmonica and since that time I went from home, I’ve been earning my daily bread - lemons, vodka, cigarettes - playing the mouth organ together with Alexander, a heaven-born guitarist and a Greek head-shaved girl, our keyboardist, who can tattoo anything. She had worked at a tattoo booth earlier, but then fell in love with a certainimmuno compromised Marcus and was fired from there, though she had many clients. Nea is very special to our priest. She’s tattooed a centaur on his back too, a rearing up centaur, tattooed himself, earrings in his ears and an electric guitar like a cudgel in his hand, a quadrupled image of the priest, a chiron of the twenty-first century, a master and a bosom friend of the heroes and the have-nots of the underground...(See PDF) 

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