What words convey the feeling when you ride through the mountains and through the rain? How to fix, stop, remember the infinitely changing pattern left by the dance of drops on glass? How to accommodate, on which shelf to add (so that it is not far and easy to get) the delight of the thin sun ray suddenly breaking through a havy clouds.
And the colors, yes! Paints!!! You want to drink them, you want to eat them, you want to plunge into them, you want to fill up to the brim so that, after returning to the walls of their native city, they catch themselves at fleeting associations: “the color of this shop in the rain is the same golden yellow as the steppes of Armenia” ; “I want to sew something, from a dress to a coat, the main thing is to have the same gray color as the rainy sky of Armenia”; "Your eyes are the color of water in Sevan" ...
Armenia under the skin. In blood. Don't let go. Oozing small drops onto a canvas.
