
by Mirian Jugheli
All my short life, I remember conversations and discussions about the conflict in Abkhazia. I don’t remember the war, but I do remember the endless talk about its causes and consequences. I also remember the pain in the eyes of the thousands who had to leave their land. Some were happy just to have survived, but others left behind the remains of their beloved, never knowing if they would be able to go back and bury them.
My memory of the war goes back to my grandmother who lived in Gagra all her life. She loved playing the piano and singing a song in a Tango rhythm, (we called it her Gagra hymn) of "Oh, sea in Gagra, Oh, palms in Gagra, who sees this once will never forget.’’
Keep reading
No comments:
Post a Comment