Last night's blasts took me back to the war in Lebanon, where as I child I would go to bed in jeans and at the first sound of bombs seek shelter somewhere. There were 8 blasts one after the other then another 2 blasts after 10 minutes at 2am this morning. For the first time since I've been in Armenia, coming up to my 3rd anniversary, I felt scared. Thank God for Alex and Raffi, who kept talking to me on the phone to get me through my fear of violence.

I have never seen Byron Street so busy as I did at 2am this morning. Cars everywhere, headlights on ready to escape from the govt residence. They were all prepared all sitting in their cars ready to go, they knew.

I just returned from Mashtots Street and there was blood everywhere on the footpath leading up to Matenadaran. Some poor bastard had walked up that path after being bashed bleeding everywhere. This is just too sad, I don’t know what to think.