Everyone has heard of the astonishingly sweet
waters of the Chashmashahi spring
and the picnicking families
samovars steamings
or tea being made on primus stove
and young people exchanging glances.
But who has spent days
in rainy August in a leaky house above Chashmashahi?
The water did not stop for a week
and we shuddered in our blankets
in the only dry corner of the room.
The mountain slope and the lake looked desolate
as more bricks of Parimahal were washed away.
I did not understand a word of the relativity book
that I held in my hands.
Book in pdf format
