Խաբեությունը միշտ էլ գրականության կարևոր մասն է եղել: Դրա միջոցով են ստեղծվում և հետո լուծում ստանում կոնֆլիկտները։ Կոլումբիայի համալսարանի շրջանավարտ, գրականագետ Աննա Շվարցմանի աշխատարանի ընթացքում Երևանի թումոցիներն ուսումնասիրեցին գրականության մեջ ստի դերը, թե ինչպես են տարբեր կերպարները խաբում միմյանց կամ իրենք իրենց և ինչպես են ստերը վերածվում հեքիաթների։
Կարինե Հովհաննիսյան, 15
“But you know that feeling when home somehow feels empty. Its warmth is gone completely– an important part is missing. Yeah– without her I can’t call that place home… I hope she will come back from the hospital soon.” Gareth’s voice trembled slightly; his gaze was fixed on the road. Theo stole a look at his eyes, which seemed lighter than ever. Was that from the sun? He wasn’t sure.
Հարություն Մակիչյան, 16
The screeching of a woman pierced Hrant’s eardrums. He ran to the women’s rooms, where he saw a man strangling a woman using a thick metal chain. The man had a piece of black cloth covering his face. Hrant kicked the back of the man’s knees, pulled his knife out of his belt, and pierced his ribs several times, near the lungs. The man instantly froze and fell to the ground. Everyone rushed to the scene– some naked, some in pajamas.
Գայանե Դանագուլյան, 16
Too many questions? Now you see the tiniest nanopercentage of what it’s like to be in my head. Except, there are only fascinating questions in there. In there, there’s nothing and everything at the same time. In there, it’s real.
So that would mean fiction is the normal reality. But that’s not true, either. If the truth is what’s real, then it’s in my mind. So reality is fiction, and surreality is the truth? (It’s not the truth– but logically, it does make sense.)
Աննա Դանիելյան, 21
You begin flipping the cards, one by one, from the top column to the middle; then, eventually, to the bottom rightmost corner. Until they’re all staring up at the two of you. Curious pictures the lineup creates: wild brush strokes pencilled in a box within a box. A blonde mermaid blows a kiss your way. An elderly man holds up a mirror to you. Your reflection startles. You slam its matching card atop him– the reflection dissipates. The haze of fear sharpens the lurid squares as you hunt each twin within the sea of paper.
Կարինե Մարտիրոսյան, 15
They say in the sky lives an old man with a long white beard whose wrinkles resemble the roads of an ancient city on a map. He is dressed like an old Caucasian shepherd. But he herds not sheep, not clouds– he herds the stars. Each star is a sleeping child. Every night when a child falls asleep, he becomes a tiny star in the sky, and the Sky Shepherd watches over their sleep.
