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  it is time to give it back the little blue keyboard with the colourful keys that my little man called starbursts he had named each key after a member of our family when he was really little this one is baba, this one is mama, this one is… my girls had played with it…

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we are sitting on the porch reading we are fighting off mosquitoes dive bombing in on us it’s 87 degrees and the air is thick with pollen and we are surely in the South I am reading to my growing babes with a Southern accent yes, this Armenian Canadian girl living in the South is…

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We wake up just as the sun is rising blinding my eyes with beauty as we drive there are hardly any other cars on these back roads I am sitting beside my Beloved We have loaded the car up with books and we are heading out to deliver them, one by one, to each of…

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I never knew about this part of history…I never ever knew After my concerts, after I have been singing the ancient Armenian folk songs and weaving in the story of my grandparents, survivors of the Armenian Genocide, the very ones who passed on these folk songs to me, after I share this history through story…

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I Love the Sun-Baked Taste of Armenian Words I love the sun-baked taste of Armenian words, their lament like ancient lutes, the bend of blood-red flowering roses in the accents, the lilt of Naiyirian steps still danced by girls. I love the arch of skies, the faceted waters running through its syllables; the mountain weather,…

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