(The above photo is not mine…it is from the Armenian Genocide archives and I found it on Google.)
After some months of absence, I am making a return. I don’t think I’ve posted on
in a very long time…probably not since late last year or around New Years this year. I’m sorry for such a long absence. Illness, then a lot of birthdays and family holidays, then learning I’m to be an auntie for the first time, them more illness. I am currently at work on a short story called “Nectar,” that is due in a matter of days. Nectar is very strongly tied in with all of the books I’ve written and an still writing, even though it takes place at the turn of the 20th century. And of course I’m working like a madwoman on Armour, my 3rd book. I don’t believe the following is 6 sentences, but it appears to be shorter than what I notoriously post. WARNING: CONTAINS VIOLENCE, DISCUSSIONS OF RAPE and other triggering subject matter.
When my dad was shot, I allowed myself a moment of grief and then hardened myself again. Death is death. Dad and baby Zmer are safe and no longer in pain. I did not coldly dismiss their murders, but I knew, even then, it was only a matter of time before these hideous men would come into me uninvited. What had seemed like a lifetime had only been forty-five minutes to an hour.
And while murder is death, rape is a living death.
Armenian music: medieval and folk songs (when one video ends, another may begin after)