Diana Markosian I eventually stopped thinking about him. I stopped listening to the stories told by my mother of the man who destroyed our family. Instead, I invented my own father: he was the man who always wante (...)
d to be next to me, but died when I was seven. Armenia. 2014. © Diana Markosian | Magnum Photos
Diana Markosian Even now. There are moments when he seems to have changed, to have opened up a little. One night he shares his poetry with me. Another time he surprises me with tickets to the symphony and sneaks i (...)
n chocolates for us. We eat them in the dark. But then, all at once, he is not there, as if those moments had never even existed. Armenia. 2014. © Diana Markosian | Magnum Photos
Diana Markosian Not too long ago, my father had another child, a little girl. I should be happy for him, but when I watch him play with his daughter, it feels like a bruise someone keeps pressing. I can't help but (...)
wonder why she gets to have a father and I don't. Armenia. 2014. © Diana Markosian | Magnum Photos