By Agron Gjekmarkaj
What remains in my mind as soon as I set foot on the grounds of the Assembly that day was a rich linguistic dialogue between Shalsi and Xhemal. An excellent conversation between two contemporary women!
“Ooo bro, how are you? Bro, what did you do? What does your brother say to you? Hey brother, we missed him! Yes, for God’s sake! how are you bro That’s right bro. I know, I know, bro! Like time brother like time. You understand brother! Ah, take the evil, brother. Good brother, live. I owe you my brother. You are great bro. Giant brother giant. You made it easy bro. Yes, you are one, brother. Let it go, brother, let it go. I’ve lost my mind, brother. Listen bro. Tung brother”.
To Etilde this seemed like the language of James Joyce’s “Ulysses” and she felt lucky as a silent witness as she noted the symbolism on the notebook.
Mimi di Puccini who reads Dante passed it with indifference as the punishment of the abomination against the folk.
Majko has found the solution to a number of problems over the years in silence. He did it this time with persistence. After the protest of February 20, we in the opposition felt more motivated. Keep your head up and look to the future. The prospective leader Gazi gathered us in the morning. He congratulated everyone one by one that Prime Minister Lideri Muli was the most generous of all.
When he approached me, he didn’t come up with a good talk. Without looking, how he unsullied the sinner, “you always find a tail to make a tail of the confrontation,” he said. I did not tell him that I had received permission from the Prime Minister for a diplomatic mission in Athens, to unite the “seven against Thebes” so as not to disturb the harmony.
I put my head down almost in despair, always with the laggards, the carts are far from glory.
Mondi, who received the biggest but well-deserved bragging rights, came to my aid: “he shot a little wrong, don’t take it too lightly, time will bring him back.”
Even Mondi has a heart. I saw from Salianji that he was also shaking his head in approval and growling as if he had no religion. You too, Brutus? As he added, “this one deals more with Mamice, her talk, not the cup, not the glass, annoying the sister and friend of the government and especially breaking the heart of Jorushi Tabakeve, who had trusted him as a biographer, than with the great causes “. Jorushi was covered by a veil of melancholy that does not use the pulpit, top and bottom.
Albana, who also had a birthday, shone like a rainbow over the dew, but did not bring a cake and closed this matter by admitting “thank you for garlic against the evil eye, so Mrs. Garo, this master of public communication did not invite her to the spot, because she was speaking that millet did not come out against the regime, because he acts as if he is a fool and does not speak the language of the people”. Tritani listened to him and advised me to “simplify that blessed language”. Fred Xhaferri stared at me with wild joy as if he had given him the right experience, “even self-criticism doesn’t work for you anymore” was the idea.
Intoxicated by the success of February 20, we delegated the power of resistance to the perspective leader Gazi. We would blow the whistle, Sajmua would even sing a little “O Lindite, take Lindite, are you giving us some light?”
Gazi from Lecice, gave birth to Lindites Babos, the Sorolop breed. Muli scolded us shortly after the session from afar for debauchery and complacency. Tao had a pair of gills added from two to now three. Every promise he makes is recorded there by the king. Ulsi’s beard is getting finer and thinner like his thoughts. The unknown minister in the corner keeps her gaze high on the horizon as the only point that connects her to reality.
Ogi is never very happy like Tetsja, but neither is she sad like Anila. Gonxhe sees us and we all look like drivers who want to do the inspection. Bora looks like a kindly meditating Buddhist monk. The earth around Babo rotates.
The mother has grabbed the bag of metaphors and is silent, causing a series of question marks for Baftua and Dilua.
The coast of Gramozi and Lindite has taken on a gray color like a shajak beaten by the many winds of the weather. His vision is blurred.
Genc Gjonçaj has not taken a shower yet. He wears Muli flour on his hair as proof of heroism. Everyone approaches as if to a Guru and he shakes his head a little to share the glory with them.
The decay appears more and more thoughtful. He longingly remembers the great weather when Babua used to come, he used to sit up there and watch them. Now he has to be content with Niko’s sneaky gaze which is unknown whether it falls on him or nearby!
Laertes feels unmotivated. People neither cry nor laugh, there are no more tears to collect. Waiting like an ax hangs over everyone. Would you include Babo in the viewing or not? Wave after wave of riots are coming, they say that half of them will not be!! We were late in this chronicle because a series of lights hit me in the face and got in the way of the pleasure to nomatize the word.
