I look into the bottom of my beer bottle and I think of you.
I hear the sound of you.
I think of happy when I think of you.
I hope the stars are kissing your cheeks tonight.
I hope there is a kite in your hand that’s strong enough to fly you to Hayastan tonight.
Artsakh, my heart!
JA SOM CAMPIONS! Visca el Barça!!!
the essence of déjeuner en Provence.