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332 pages, Hardcover
First published May 29, 2014
How can I explain it...? What can I do in Georgia but show a guest the view and wait for his approval, show him the physical world and wait for the contours of the mountains to tell him their own stories. It is up to the guest to recognize them. All I can do is point at the mountains, at the solid rocks, at the archaeologists digging under them, at the world which looks upside down and crooked but lo--only to the guest.
I whispered: "May everything be good and nothing bad. May the fishermen catch many good fish, may Swiss chocolate factories discover our hazelnuts, may the soil always be fertile, may our cups always be full." Those were enough prayers. I should have stopped there. As we say in Georgia, if you give a blind man eyes, he will ask for eyebrows. I became greedy like an Armenian and added, "May I make it to America." Then Zaliko the archaeologist came driving by, shouting at the bishop to give him some petrol, and everyone began shouting like politicians trying to jail each other.