WHAT THEY SAY IN KARABAGH For centuries we have fed it our blood and our bone. For centuries we have swallowed its bread and its stones. Nothing will tear us from this land that we call home.
AT THE MINAS AVEDISYAN MUSEUM A fire like Gorky’s (What can be worse?) burning your life and all and all its work?
I search your colors trying to find what was so threatening to a proleteriate mind? Why were you destroyed? Here is only life and light. Too much freedom not to ignite?
MARCOS GRIGORYAN You have hardened sand and the cracked earth we used to own to memory’s stone. Your alchemy can turn a plate of simple food like Midas, to gold, but gold to feed the soul. Your benediction is the circle and the cross plus the old sign of eternity whose spin never stops. Yours the hand we bless as it blesses us.