Trafika Europe 4 - Armenian Rhapsody

“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?

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