This was a planned governmental action to kill Armenians, not something that happened randomly. We never had the luxury of growing up with a normal family life with grandparents, aunts or uncles. So many didn't survive.

My father lived through it and passed away at the age of 90. He used to tell the stories and break down and cry.

I'm well aware of the show. The handful of people who were able to survive have always believed in the need for education and advancement of awareness in the countries that we live in.

We feel a responsibility to our parents.

Mary was like a caged tiger in the first days of her captivity. Keen, alert, and watchful, she listened tensely each dawn for the key that unlocked her door. After breakfast she watched the road for messengers, pacing back and forth like a confined feline.

But no messengers ever came.

Elizabeth had abandoned her. Or forgotten her.

And the days passed.

Little by little, the Queen of Scots grew accustomed to her captivity. She no longer heard the key in the lock, or the footsteps outside her door. More often than not it was the maid's cheerful voice that woke her, along with the hand on Mary's shoulder and the delicious smells wafting from the breakfast tray.

It's a terrible thing to say I know. I've only done what I wanted to do. It's a real luxury. I only made the pictures I wanted to make and lived in the places I've wanted to live. I'm very, very happy.