Outside the Armenian National Opera
and Ballet Theatre,
there are a thousand open books
scattered across the square
and on the steps leading up to
the statue of a famous composer.
The pages flutter in the wind,
turning one way and then the other,
like the autumn leaves on the walkway.
The area is roped off,
but I can see one book closely enough
to see that the pages are written
in the Armenian script.
The imagery of the books is dramatic.
And people stop to meditate
on this brilliant artistic display.
Soon, I feel the books beckoning me.
Come, darling,
take our knowledge,
pursue your wisdom.
I’m startled by the touch of something.
A black cat has bumped my leg
and now stands at my feet
looking up at me,
but seeming to want nothing more
than to be acknowledged.
Our eyes lock briefly,
brown eyes with black orbs,
yellow eyes with black slits,
and then he casually looks away.
The cat is a good omen.
Protection and intuition.
Open books.
Black cat.
Knowledge.
Intuition.
Balance.
