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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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?

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]