I have the big room with the big bed, yeah.

I head out to the market, on the way I say hi to my neighbour, who is beating wool.

Occasionally I stop to play football with Artur (under my right elbow), his older brother Hacob (under my left elbow), that nameless kid in the centre and other neighbourhood boys.

Once in a while I run into the "crazy lady." She speaks to me in a patois of Armenian, Russian, and Persian, I think. She keeps our courtyard and staircases nice and clean. She keeps track of her donations as not to bother the same people too often. Here she is writing: "September 10: I received 300 drams from the nice boy in appartment #23."

An open-air market where I buy almost all my food.

A typical scene when I come back home from shopping: Marcos is just waking up, while I do some housechores.

I conducted a little experiment with Marcos and Shiao-Ma once: I stopped taking the garbage out to see how long it would take before they did it. Once the cockroaches were making too much noise at night chasing the maggots around the kitchen floor, they got the hint and threw the trash out.

Time to head out to town...