“I tried to forget Armenia, but I could not. My homeland is California, but I cannot forget Armenia. So what is our homeland all about? Is it some special place on earth? Is it its rivers? Lakes? The sky? Maybe the moon rises in a different way? And the sun? Or maybe our homeland is trees? Vineyards? Grass? Birds? Hills? Rocks? The mountains? The ravines?
The air temperature in spring, summer, and winter? The pulsation of wildlife? Maybe the houses and huts, city streets? Tables, chairs, tea drinking, and chats? Maybe it’s the peach ripening on a branch in the summer heat? Maybe the deceased in the ground? Maybe those who have not yet been born? Maybe the speech?
Or maybe the printed word of the native language? A painting? A song? A dance? Or is the homeland a prayer ascended for the good of the air, water, earth, fire, and life? Maybe the homeland is the eyes of the people, their smiles, their grief?
I cannot say for sure: I only know that all this is dissolved in our blood like a memory. All this lives in the human. After all, I have been in Armenia, I have been, I have seen it with my eyes, I know. I have been there, and this is what I brought out of this: the human on earth is nothing but a tragic mortal creature, whether he is a king or a beggar.
I want people to see clearly and to finally understand this truth and stop killing each other because I believe that there are other worthy ways to become great. I believe that an outcome is possible, the result of which will be life, not death.
What difference the nation or political views make? Does this ever ease the pain and grief of mortals? Will it make us happy, will it make us more powerful?”
