135 / 180
135
“Catch my hat, I’m tossing it down.”
“Toss it down!”
I tossed it, but I couldn’t see if she caught it.
She calls to me, “Kikos, my son!”
“Yes, mom?”
“Be careful, son, don’t you fall down,” and she weeps.
I want to cry also. I’m holding my Thickwood and can’t
understand what it is. Is it a story, a life, a dream or
literature? I wonder, Oh my God, Hovhannes Tumanyan, I
am on top of my tree, I will die from happiness now, and
that would be the second death of Kikos. Then who would
write about that?
_____