On the inside of his passport folder a tiny black & white photo was permanently hidden. They were photos of Gocha and me, ages 4 and 3. Since January, he couldn't remember anyone or anything, but he always recognized the two characters in these photos. I started a painting using these photos in front of his bed and asked him frequently:
-Dad, who are these kids?”
-Eteri and Gocha! --He'd answer with pride and a self-mocking smile.
-Where is Gocha? --He kept asking me.
-He is in New Jersey, don't you remember? We will get there and you will spend time with him as well.
-Dad, do you remember the hundreds of oil paint brushes you bought for me when I was 15?
No, he didn't remember... Those brushes cost him two months' salary of a Soviet University professor. Usually, good quality items were smuggled into the Soviet Union from Europe and sold on an illegal, so-called Black market. He didn't remember either, that we had just traveled from -F 11 degrees freezing Canada to tropical Jamaica.
