In Aigedzor, down the street from the former building of Yerevan State University's Department of Economics, right on the edge the gorge, there are thick-trunked mulberry trees lying on the ground, chopped into pieces. There are only trucks and cars at this construction site, not a living soul. I asked a woman from a neighboring building, "Do you know who this land belongs to?"
"Dear boy, it's none of my business. I stay out of trouble [keep harm and misfortune away]. You've got no business here, either. You'd better get out of here. Don't you see what is going on?"
Then I asked, "Didn't you use to come here sometimes?"
"Of course we did. We would come and pick mulberries and have a rest; the kids would play."
Next to this construction site stand the huge private houses of our state officials, parliament members, prosecutors, and businessmen. Does it make any difference which one of them owns which property? These mulberry trees are already lying on the ground; the others are next in line.