I have got an antique mirror, a chair and a writing desk from my mother-in-law. In my new house, there are reflections of them that create a corridor of memory. My books, film festival badges, brushes and paints, and an unfinished painting also fall into this corridor. I like a lot the poster featuring the meeting with Artavazd Peleshyan which I stole from the bulletin board... All this was before the 24th of February. Since then I have stopped working as a journalist, I cannot paint and watch movies. Since the war in Ukraine began, I have been looking at the portrait of Sonya, which you can see next to my writing desk, painted by Christian Schad (1928) and I have been thinking about her destiny as a German refugee during WW2. Next to the portrait it is a dried bouquet that was given to me before the war. I do not throw it away in the memory of last February. There is a wooden house on the windowsill our son is playing with. I look at this house and think that many people have lost their homes. I have also lost in the baroque curls of the mirror, in the corridor of memory, and I do not know when I am able to visit my homeland again.

Mystical element is the sun

ardent and hot like only himself

sometimes cloudy, rainy and doubtful

sometimes strong, firm and secure

Orange, yellow or light blue

whatever you want to be

how and when you want to

no questions, no doubts about yourself

Just wanting to want to be

to grow, to believe

to live and feel and laugh

to sometimes cry, but always rise

Shy, alone, unique being

furious and fearful

how could it be

Alone, tender, alive, he is red

the slow world passes at his feet

without grudges nor fears

no doubts, no rush, no breeze

only him

Soon I dream, I live, I believe

to go beyond to a future thing

a dream and a feeling, and a laugh

here and there he has to come

Sun:

even in your absence you leave light,

your peace, your place, your solitude

even in your absence you are present

with hot brushstrokes captured in steam

Calm, smooth, intact water down below

with no worries, no memories to flow

fluid it dances and elapses here and there

being, seeing, hearing, going where?

Colored mist that attracts, what do you hide?

captivates, embraces, overwhelms

the secrets of heaven

ephemeral, agile, soft as the wind

Furtive, fleeing time that escapes at birth

where have you gone? where have you gone?

at the beginning or escaped suddenly to the end?