While I was in Long Beach (California), my cousin Arman picked me up and we went to the Armenian Genocide commemorative march in Little Armenia (aka, LA) on 24 April 2006.

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After moving to America in 2003, I had not seen so many Armenians in one place; it was very moving. With tears on my eyes I was watching the young and the elderly getting ready for the walk. Tears, not only for those one and a half million, including my own relatives, who perished 90 years ago, but also tears for those present who had no chance of mourning.

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They do not have the time to mourn since they must “demand justice;” they do not have the ability to remember in silence since they have to fight the Turkish denial of the Armenian Genocide.

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What happens if Turkey admits the Genocide? Are Armenians ready for that moment and what are they going to do next? With these and other questions in my mind I keep walking.

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Confused feelings; sadness for hearing English speech from the mouths of Armenian children when they talk among themselves: after all, wasn’t the Genocide to kill what was Armenian? Isn’t assimilation equivalent to the long-term purpose of genocides?

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Then I cannot hide my admiration of the beautiful Armenian eyes that are walking around me. I look at them with fear in my heart for those of us in Armenia: what if Turkey does it again? What if Turkey invades the current tiny Republic of Armenia?

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This is when I swear “never again” in my heart; this is when I know that one day I will return to Armenia and not leave it ever again in order to make never again a reality…for at least during my lifetime.

[written on an airplane from Long Beach to Phoenix, 24 April 2006; all photographs by Simon Maghakyan/blogian.hayastan.com]