In the morning I went to the Site.
The White Silence. Das veschneit Märchenland.
Until twelve a.m., I was constructing a chute on the gorge slope for clay-tipping in the planned lay-out toil.
The snow was falling all the day on the slushy sidewalks and streams of dirty water running down the roads.
And, all the day, a heavy cannonade was thundering in the direction of Askeran producing the all too well-known sickening feeling inside my belly.
After lunch, I did one page from Joyce.
Two hours of guitar-playing.
Ahshaut awoke after his day nap and played it too in a style of the future.
At six p.m., instead of Yoga, I went uphill to Aram, my brother-in-law.
His mother, worried by his constant loneliness after his wife and children had flown to Yerevan, suggested me to invite him to our place.
The invitation he declined expressly; so, to soften his solitude, I stayed with him playing backgammon for more than two hours.
Escorted the family over to Underground.
The water-walk is ahead and then the two-word prayer: