"I was 13 when the Turks broke into our house"
In the early 1960s, while still a teenager, I started talking to a fellow passenger on a train—who, as it turned out, was an Armenian born in Turkey. She was unusually pretty, although she had already reached the age when they speak only the truth. This is what she said: “I was 13 when the Turks burst into our house. Soldiers or just bandits, I don’t know. They killed dad, mom, stabbed all the adults. But then a handsome black-mustachioed Turkish guy ran into the house.