Trafika Europe 4 - Armenian Rhapsody

the one with the photographs is a big bookshelf. I approach the window. My empty house, room and balcony can be seen from here. I see that the windows have been overtaken by dirt and are covered in a white film. I turn and see a large cello, next to a small television. My knees start to buckle. She is probably in the kitchen or the bathroom. There are some dirty dishes in the kitchen sink. I slowly start to believe that she is not at home. I just need to check in the bathroom, that’s all. I open the door of the bathroom. It creaks. There is a huge mirror in front of me. A face looks at me from the mirror with empty eyes, white curly hair and a plump wrinkled face. The wrinkles descend over the neck and hang near the breasts. I can’t remember how long now, but she looked at me for a very long time. I return to the room, put the chair in the middle of the room and take off my dress, the bright colors beautifully covering the chair. I pick up the cello and weakly tense the strings. I fill the consciousness of the lonely people of the world with bitter, sour and disjointed sounds.

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