motherland-fatherland exhibition

Armenia. My childhood. The sky. The sun. I throw up seven stones one after another, throw up and catch. I catch them with my palm. There was such children's game called "seven stones". It was at that time and now I became like a thrown up stone. Seven stones, seven bones- seven days-seven nights- in waiting for- sweet-or bitter- even number- or lodd. Who is asking for me, hei?