remember myself from my 3 years old age. I never was complicated child. I never cried without the reason cause, But if I had the reason nobody was able to calm me... Nobody but grandpa… He used to embrace me so I was soothed immediately, at once and forever.... But I was hanging on his neck and he worked and worked. I never watched him when he was painting, but was feeling it with whole of my brain, how his arms were moving. I was the part of his drawings. We were creating all together, grandpas with his fantasy and me with my tears... Than, finding out that I was ok he was trying to put me on the bed but I was sooooo wakeful! I never let him such wrong things. And he was holding and holding me again and never was trying to get rid of me anymore. This is the best memories of my life, I still want to be hold and never be put down.
There were so many bearded men and pretty women in our villa in Khashuri years ago, when I was still little girl. Grandpa’s friends: philosophers, writers, painters, artists used to visit as and have a long meetings and conversations. They have had so long and incomprehensible talks, so difficult for understanding... As soon as they appeared grandpa used to ask me: Eka dearest don’t disturb me please, try to be busy with something and yourself... It was magical words for me, outstanding words... I had no choice! I should have be gone or disappear as soon as possible and immediately and voluntarily, it was the unwritten rule in our relation with grandpa.
I was keeping my word. I was always gone but not too far. Ha Ha Ha!!! I used to hide and wait near the back porch and secretly and curiously listened them. I always liked these visitors but I was frightened as well.... I tried to learn many obscure words by hearsay... They were so inexplicable and tangled for me. I was trying to study tour guests faces, theirs manners of talk and action.... And lately, when I was asked from where and how I learned wisdom and so unusual words for child on my earliest age I used to answer: From the doors chink gentlemen, just from the doors chink!!!
And it was exception. When suddenly opened door was hitting me straight onto my head, I never cried!!! I used to be patient with pain. I liked to be unnoticed, invisible for everyone and everything, even for the pain. I liked what I hear and learn through the doors chink. And huge door was blowing and blowing on my head again and again, years and years so often and so badly!!!
This door and many other doors opened for me forever when I became 10 years old girl already the author of my first book I was accepted...
May be I damaged myself or got crazy after such strokes and hiding on my head??! Who knows! But I was not so crazy to forget about what I learned there... That’s also one of the brightest memories of my life.
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