In 1974, Yasser Arafat, in a historic speech at the UN General Assembly said, “I come bearing an olive branch in one hand and a freedom fighter’s gun in the other. Do not let me drop the olive branch.”

Every city has a particular smell. It penetrates through your pores and settles underneath your skin so you can’t escape it.

If you need to pull together a large dinner party on short notice, I’m the person to come to. Seriously. Just ask my sisters.

After centuries of being stateless, the First Republic of Armenia, 1918-1920 was founded thanks to the perseverance, valor and heroism of the Armenian people and their leaders.

In 1932, writer James Kieran used the term Brain Trust in the “New York Times” when referring to the close group of experts that surrounded United States presidential candidate Franklin Roosevelt.

The news hit me in the gut… “Our beloved Allen is gone, Sose is in a coma.”

It’s time to take away the levers of their perceived power. It is time to eradicate the uneducated, morally bankrupt, economically powerful, groveling, sniveling mob of young men and boys and silly, vacuous girls who think they will determine the destiny of my country.

Springtime in Yerevan is my favorite season. As the city crawls its way out of winter, spring reveals itself with such grace and splendor in our city.

It is that time of year again when Armenians around the globe commemorate the Armenian Genocide of 1915.

While it is business as usual for the rest of the world, the Armenian people have been embroiled in a political process that might appear to be imploding. But is it?

Tranquility, stillness, and serenity are words that no longer define our lives. They were obliterated from our collective narrative decades ago, maybe centuries ago, perhaps millennia ago.

The man in this picture is from Kapan. I don’t know his name, nor do I know anything about him. I don’t know if he is married, or has children or is employed.

We are sitting at Café Vergnano on Northern Boulevard with a group of friends, drinking coffee watching the clock. It’s almost 5 p.m. and we know where we have to be. We pay the bill, gather up our belongings and begin making our way to Liberty Square.

This will hopefully be my last opinion piece about the presidential elections in Armenia. By the time this article is published, we will most likely have a new president who is the same president we had for the past five years.