Embrace in a Moscow Elevator
Not long ago, I was in Moscow when a young man got on the elevator I was riding. He looked at me, then asked whether I were Azerbaijani. I nodded.
"From Baku?" "Yes," I answered. I begged the same question of him. "Yes, but I'm Armenian. I had to leave." "How are you doing there without us?" he wondered."Not so well." I confessed.
And at that moment, two of us - total strangers to each other - spontaneously embraced each other, fully aware of the sorrow and pain this war had caused the other. We were simply two brothers torn by strife. -Yagub
Not long ago, I was in Moscow when a young man got on the elevator I was riding. He looked at me, then asked whether I were Azerbaijani. I nodded.
"From Baku?" "Yes," I answered. I begged the same question of him. "Yes, but I'm Armenian. I had to leave." "How are you doing there without us?" he wondered."Not so well." I confessed.
And at that moment, two of us - total strangers to each other - spontaneously embraced each other, fully aware of the sorrow and pain this war had caused the other. We were simply two brothers torn by strife. -Yagub
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