Happy New Year

2 Jan 2022

Tbilisi, 2/1/22

It has been quite a night shift in Tbilisi club scene: as the day shifts into a recollection of vivid, rich, and passionate events I find it difficult to contain the wholeness of the past hours.

Yet the highlight of the day was about to arrive.

While on the way back from Mtkvarze, this morning at about 10: I am already in Dry Bridge after a infinite stroll, carrying shopping bags straight out of Station Square: a rave without a small grocery hunt at the bazaar next to the clubs cannot be complete, nor ignore.

I am finally at Dry Bridge;

A man craftily deformed: crushed nose, his walk crippled by the winters, clear blue eyes, teeth less, yet lucid and clean.

- Excuse me! He stops me all of the sudden

- What time is it? He politely asks.

In a georgiano sgangherato I reply: he understands me with a smile, he stops me: for a second I had a strange fear, an annoyance, yet I decide to follow his steps.

- Where are you from? He asks with a pristine toothless accent

- Iran?

- Ara, I say no.

- Turkey?

- Ara, Ara, Ara I keep repeating playfully

- Arab? He asks me with eager curiosity

I keep insisting no: I am a local I explain: and you?

His eyes start to shine from a deep sadness, from a deep memory: Azerbajian, like a child he answers.

He smiles. He look at his bag. He takes out a small chocolate. He hands it to me.

Happy New Year! He says

Happy New Year to you too.

Again smiles.