Sar

You chose your seedling, decided on a good place for it, prepared its soil, watered it for the first time, turned your back and walked away, days passed, perhaps weeks, the rains came, and then snow, winds blew, every now and then you came and checked, it had grown to your height, it had held up well, its roots could sink as deep as eternity, then came spring and then came summer, the sun rose, the moon set, Venus came up, you were already dead, who knows where your grandchildren woke up, some had departed, those who arrived had departed from  other places, it didn’t work out, some things went wrong, the tree grew, there used to  be one house in the distance, then there were three, then five, then five hundred,  murders took place in its shade, and of course, some kissed, too, some never realized it  stood there, and some gave it water. 

Then they chopped it down. 

And thank goodness for that because the pavement needed widening.

This performance was constructed upon a misunderstanding of the world, humanity,  mountains, the earth and the sky. It has absolutely nothing to do with the tree mentioned above. The performance is interested in knowing where the grandchildren  wake up. 

As part of 100 + 10 – Armenian Allegories


© SAR