I understand that our family is large: our own family and my uncle's family. Obviously, we need to take a lot of things because there are children and a pregnant woman with us. Naturally, we have to think about them first and take their things.

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But what about me? I live one day at a time. I don't need many things. So I thought, what should I take? I took my backpack and started packing... almost nothing. I put my wallet in it and, — over the years I had accumulated a collection of glasses, many of which I never wore, maybe just one or two pairs, — and decided to take my red glasses. Here they are. I don't know why I chose them.

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On the day the war started, I was at work, and I had my black glasses with me, but I wasn't wearing them that day. So when leaving Artsakh, I decided not to take the black ones, but the red ones. I took one change of clothes.

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Of all the things I had, for some reason, I wore this shirt. When my mom sees it now, she gets angry. She has told me so many times that it's worn out and should be used only for cleaning floors. But I can't throw away this shirt or those red glasses. They are my only memory of Artsakh.