I have often heard from the mouth of an Armenian. "That's your nation...", "That's Armenia...", "You..." and always "It's yours". Or even without "it", "Armenia", as if Armenia is not in itself and Armenia itself is not in Armenia - Armenia is a far-away place, in all cases, outside of itself and perhaps only applies to you, your Armenian ruler, your Armenian clergyman, your Armenian intellectual. "You did it with your head." "Your Armenia is nothing." "Our es Armenians too..." Aha brought him a little closer, "our es", but again he is not himself - he is the one standing next to this tragic, comical, crazy phenomenon.
They have often been "naïve lilies of the valley that neither spin nor spin" under the burden of the national complex, "But they exist beautifully" and because of them we exist. sometimes there were those who took the life of a person who had given them a unique life away from this national paradise of ours, and sometimes there were people who thought that being an Armenian and Armenia was a task that they would do better than you if it were given to them.
"Those are your allies." "those communists of yours." "Your papacy more than the Pope of Rome." "That ghetto self-isolation of yours." "That's your brazen internationalism..."
And we are each other's strength and each other's weakness, we are each other's pride and each other's stigma.
Reject each other - there is no, we cannot, we cannot deny ourselves.
Being Armenian is difficult, but not being Armenian is impossible.
Among different languages and religions, we are Armenians. And for each and every one of us, our identity would not be a burden if we did not burden each other, if we did not become a burden for each other. This is how it is and only this way, but we secretly hope that it is not so, that we can hide from each other, steal secretly, commit adultery secretly, be dishonest secretly, kill the honest and brave inside of each of us and hope that it happened secretly from all of us. My body is testifying that it has been robbed, the idleness of my ears screams that my brother is not standing behind me.
But today is that day, isn't today the day to curse our unfortunate fate? Today, yesterday and tomorrow are always that day - to be and decipher our destiny.
We have stamped our destiny with our own hands, and the handwriting of those who have been honest before their vocation, and illegible and unspeakable, the handwriting of those of us who have been and have not been, who are and are not today.
And God forbid that the absence of our innocents today, tomorrow we hand over our destinies to those who are not ours. "There was a country called Armenia. His sons were dishonest and especially did not like to work and were dishonest in front of their works, and they ate their homeland and thus ate themselves.
The existence of many and many like us is no comfort to us, and envy is a matter of the high presence under this sun of those who have been in our condition, but are today the standard of man and humanity, of nation and nationality; we could be us as much as they are themselves, we can.
This is easy, this is not difficult, if it is not difficult to shed blood and sweat on this land, to clean the square from this garbage of words and actions, not to cheat on your work as a worker-soldier-figure-scientist-writer. Otherwise, the country of people is also a machine, it cannot be deceived. Otherwise, they have another name, a martyr for your people, they are waiting for your departure.
The weight of our history is enough to bring down even the most resistant of us - let's not be burdened by the living, let's not be burdened.