Saturday, November 8, 2008


She’s running.
Fluorescent lit corridors, people, piles of papers on desks, clean marble tiles, and more people… She’s running with her high heels, not caring if she slips. She’s here. That’s the door, the final step. She busts in, hardly catching her breath and hands in the document with not a word.
Her boss looks at it in approval, “Ok. You can leave now.”
“Thank you sir” was barely audible, because she left in such a hurry.

She’s running.
Long corridors, stairs, people in suits; finally, the parking lot. She gets into her car and hurriedly drives off.
There is it, “Kindergarten # 81” . She enters the building, and after a few moments she’s running back out with a kid. He’s barely keeping up with after his mom.
She’s running.
Car, keys, doors slamming, accelerator….
The black ford is in the parking of the shopping mall. She yells, “wait in the car” and runs through the sliding doors.
She’s running.
Isles, shopping carts, grocery, cashier, and she’s running again.
The tires squeak when she comes to a stop at the garage door.
She’s running.
Grocery, her bag, keys. Did she forget anything?
Oh, yes, her son. Run back to the car to get him.
She runs into the house. There’s no time.
She feeds her son while quickly preparing dinner.
She looks at the time. Two minutes left.
Ok, she’ll make it. Runs to the living room, jumps on the sofa and turns on the TV.
“I made it” she says with a gasp. She has a big smile on her face and her eyes are glittering with satisfaction.
A mother, a respectable accountant, a beautiful woman. But especially, she’s a great big football fan…

Dedicated to Marik.

Monday, November 3, 2008

Ray of hope

It’s dawn. The streets of Yerevan are sleeping. Birds are chirping and that is the only noise breaking the silence. A silhouette is visible on the bridge, he’s not moving. Looking closely, you could see a young man standing alone with a bouquet of weathered roses in his hand.
Armen is gazing at the twilight with fixed eyes and holding the roses with a firm grip. There is dried blood on his knuckles. As if not aware of the pain, he keeps on holding it tightly looking into the distance.

Everything happened so fast that Armen was still in a state of shock and confusion. How could Arevik do this to him? After all the things they shared together and the future that they were planning…
Four years ago Armen was having his first exhibition in Yervan; he was very nervous about showing his paintings to the public. He was looking at all those people who had showed up and were browsing through his work. Suddenly he spotted her in the crowded room. She was beautiful, she had a scarf wrapped around her neck and shoulders which was hiding her hair. He got closer and said the first thing that came to his mind, “I like your scarf”. Then they both started laughing. They clicked.
From that moment onward they were inseparable. A gifted painter and a young actress, they were like a perfect couple. Their relationship developed over the years and it was obvious to everyone that they made a cute couple and would eventually get married. And that’s exactly what Armen was thinking when he proposed to Arevik.
But the answer wasn’t what he was expecting. He shuddered when he remembered how Arevik had said that she needed time to think.
“Don’t worry, you both will surely end up together” said their friends. A couple of days ago Arevik called him up and said that they needed to meet, there was something important they needed to discuss. He got ready for that appointment as if it were a first date, he was anxious and nervous. He got yellow roses, which were her favorites. As he was waiting for her on the bridge holding the bouquet, his palms were sweating. She was right on time which was a bit unusual for her.
Armen’s mind was blurry; he only could remember some of the words she had uttered; “not ready…travel to see the world….experience life…” as if Arevik was talking to herself, he didn’t say a word which made her upset and she left.
He stayed there alone on the bridge, he was not aware of the time or his surroundings. Nothing made sense to him.
The first sunray hit his face when he came out of his deep thoughts and realized that it’s almost dawn. He dropped the roses and walks aimlessly.
This was a new direction for him; Armen wasn’t sure where to go and what to do now. But was certain about one thing, this was a new start, a blank canvas on the tripod.
“What beautiful roses, what a pity they’re weathered” said the janitor picking them up. “I’ll put them in water”.
It is a new day; the streets of Yerevan gradually were waking up.