“Learn, grow, rise”—with this motto on their shirts and the dust of the road beneath their feet, a group of young hikers from the Bardzunk club came to Ahnidzor, the writer’s homeland.
They brought pages of Matevossian they had read, plenty of love and curiosity, and one essential question: who was the writer to each of them? They were welcomed by the writer’s son, Davit Matevossian. The conversation took place at the Ahnidzor school that bears Hrant Matevossian’s name.
Davit spoke of the writer’s legacy as living matter: something not merely to remember, but to be shaped by. He spoke of a generation called to carry responsibility as a form of love, and of looking at the world from within—not as an observer, but as a participant.
The questions were sincere and moving: “What were his last words to you?” and “What advice would he give us?” One young visitor who hopes to become a chef was delighted to discover that Matevossian was also an accomplished cook.
The meeting became a road into the writer’s world—a place where a person becomes fully human through thought, attention and love; where citizenship begins with humanity, and art becomes a responsible answer to the world.
As they said goodbye, the group leader offered the words, “Thank you for the light.” It sounded like a summing-up, not an ending: the light was already within them. That was the true purpose of the journey.
