Fifth Journey Day 66: The Kite That Refused Wind

Date: July 13, 2025
Location: Gyumri, Armenia

The light here feels quieter than in Yerevan — as if it's been filtered through memory before reaching the stone. I spent most of the morning slowly walking through the Kumayri district, listening to the buildings tell their stories. There are so many doors with carved lintels, windows missing their glass but not their dignity. Time doesn't erase here — it gathers.

I visited the Aslamazyan Sisters' Museum and stayed longer than I expected. The rooms are cozy, with rugs underfoot and paintings that radiate color without being overwhelming. Mariam's self-portraits — colorful, bold, and soft — caught my eye the most. There's something special about how she painted herself without feeling the need to make a big show of it. She understood what was going on, and that was good enough for her. That stayed with me.

Outside, I sat under a mulberry tree and let its shadow move across my sketchbook. I didn't draw. I just sat with the pages open, waiting. A boy rode by on his bike, dragging a deflated balloon behind him like a kite that had finally given up. It didn't make any noise, but the image felt strangely significant. Maybe that's what I'm going to paint tomorrow.

I also thought about how Gyumri doesn't just forget its past, but rather, it's a part of the city's texture. The walls had cracks from the earthquake, and the iron railings had become slightly warped over time. But it doesn't feel broken. It feels like it's always there, even when it's not.

There's a word I read once: "resonance." That's what this city offers — not too much noise or too much silence, but something in between. There's a kind of energy that can be felt in the bones of buildings and the spaces they leave behind.

Tomorrow, I'll start something new. Tonight, I'm just letting the sounds relax me.