It seemed, as though a gigantic helicopter is trying to lift our school and take it somewhere. The sounds felt exactly like that, and the jerking and lap-dancing of the walls felt exactly like that. The teacher of Armenian asked us to stay quiet for a moment, then she opened the door of the classroom, looked out at something and told us: take hands children, and follow me.
The obedient rows of Soviet-trained children followed the teacher into the corridor and clashed into a running screaming river of children and teachers. By now everybody understood it is an earthquake. “Zhazhq e, pakheq!!!” (“It’s an earthquake, run…”) was heard from everywhere.
Cracks appeared on the walls, stones started falling. Some fell and the running crowd stampeded them… Continue reading
