March 7

In the morning I went to the Site.

The White Silence. Das veschneit Märchenland.

Until twelve am, I was constructing a chute on the gorge slope for clay-tipping in the planned on lay-out toil.

The snow was falling all the day onto the slushy sidewalks and the 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 pm, 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.

Supper.

Escorted the family over to the Underground.

The water-walk is ahead and then the two-word prayer — "Good night".