Books

[in Armenian]

There is a steep decline at the corner of Victory Park. I was overcome with an internal laughing. They relate that during those difficult, grey years of repatriation, when these streets were almost deserted, when there was no mode of transportation in the city, a repatriate, disappointed with the homeland and all else, embittered, cursing immigration day and night, one clear winter morning, (God knows why), when walking down from here to the city, suddenly slipped on the frozen ground and fell on his back, hitting his head hard, and in that condition, what did that poor soul see to make it all good….Mt. Ararat, majestic and clear, was standing opposite him and seemed to be smiling…