Across the cobblestone path stood Giorgi’s tiny kiosk. He didn’t sell souvenirs or gold-plated trinkets. He sold second-hand cassette tapes and repaired old Soviet radios. His hands were permanently stained with solder and rust. The other vendors called him “Giorgi Griboedov” —a joke because he was always buried in broken things, trying to give them a second voice.
“That’s a good throw,” Nino whispered. love don 39-t cost a thing qartulad
He smiled, revealing a gold tooth. “Everything is for sale, lamazo (beautiful).” Across the cobblestone path stood Giorgi’s tiny kiosk
(Siq’varuls puli ar sč’irdeba)
“How much for the whole lot?” he asked, waving at her churchkhela . ” Nino whispered. He smiled
“It’s not for sale,” she said.