The Dream

‘…into a kind of absolute reality’ - Andre Breton, First Manifesto

Next door is America, Washington D.C., the Mall is where they chase me down yelling `That one over there, the last of the Armenians! Rape her, crush her in a coffin, bury her alive with the rest of them’ It’s like a cabaret; a plethora of Turks with arched swords, and red fezes sitting awkwardly on top of their heads, attack me. (Screaming with hysteria) i slowly disappear into a handful of sand. Passers-by ignore the show; it’s not worth their time.

Shushan Avagyan April 2001

Shushan Avagyan was born in Yerevan, Armenia, and has written poetry all of her life. She is currently a fine arts student in America, and writes poetry in both Armenian and English. Her poems are self-expressive and somewhat abstract.