Tuesday, November 13, 2018

I dashur mik, e dashur mike


I/e dashur mik/mike,

Sot dua të të flas për librat. Jo se ti nuk e di cfarë janë librat, por thjesht të t’i kujtoj. Ti i sheh librat përditë; rrugës teksa shkon në punë, aty në trotuar, mbuluar me pluhur kur është verë, dhe me qese të ngjyrave të ndryshme, në vjeshtë e dimër. I dashur mik, a e dije se librat janë të urtë e të mencur?! Librat janë edhe të sjellshëm, madje edhe më të sjellshëm sec mund ta kesh menduar ti. Ata nuk të gjykojnë dhe as nuk të përqeshin. I dashur mik, a e ke vrarë mendjen se kur ka qenë libri I fundit që të kanë zënë duart – nuk po flasim këtu librat e shkollës, apo ato të fëmijëve, që nga halli duhet të përplasesh me to. I dashur mik/mike, a e ke menduar ndonjëherë se duke lexuar një libër ke mundësi të shkosh nga divani yt i ndenjes në një vend tjetër, ndoshta dhe në një tjetër planet?

I dashur mik/ mike do të të këshilloja – natyrisht nëse do të më dëgjoje: Lexo sa më shumë libra dhe jeto sa më shumë jetë. Përdori ato si urë, atostradë, anije, nëndetëse dhe shko e vizitoje botën. Ajo është falas për ty. Mjafton ta tërheqësh prej rruge.
I dashur mik/ mike,
Mos ki frikë! Libri është miku yt më i mirë; vërtet ka shumë fjalë, por ato janë pa zë. A e ke menduar ti i/e dashur mik/mike, se sa pak flasim ne për librat? Nuk besoj se të ka rënë në sy. Në fakt, tani që po të shkruaj ty, po kujtohem edhe vetë se sa pak flasim ne për librat dhe sa pak lexojmë! Një herë në vit – vetëm një javë, vetëm gjatë panairit të librit – është shumë pak, kaq nuk mjafton! Më thuaj, i/e dashur mik/mike, kur ka qenë hera e fundit që ke folur për një të tillë? Ndërsa unë i/e dashur mik/mike, flas shumë për librat, aq shumë sa njerëzit kanë filluar që të mërziten prej meje. “Ohu, ajo flet vetëm për libra”, – thonë.  Ndaj i/e dashur mik/ mike, kam hequr dorë nga e folura. Tani preferoj të hesht dhe të shkruaj më shumë. Ndoshta një ditë; dikush, dikur, diku, do t’i bie ndërmend të lexojë më shumë. Dhe aty patjetër do të jem dhe unë.

Më poshtë po ju sjell ndërmend një poezi të Siegfried Sassoon:

Books; what a jolly company they are,
Standing so quiet and patient on their shelves,
Dressed in dim brown, and black, and white, and green
And every kind of colour. Which will you read?
Come on; O do read something; they're so wise.
I tell you all the wisdom of the world
Is waiting for you on those shelves; and yet
You sit and gnaw your nails, and let your pipe out,
And listen to the silence.

Nëse keni arritur deri këtu atëherë urime! Ju mund të shikoni dhe Listën e librave të mi, të lexuar gjatë këtij viti. Jeni të lirë të shtoni listën tuaj. J

1 Berlin – James Patterson
2 Jack & Jill – James Patterson
3 Shakaja – Milan Kundera
4 Nate e dite – Virginia Woolf
5 The picture of Dorian Gray – Oscar Wilde
6 Anabela – Adela Caushllari
7 11 minutes – Paolo Coelho
8 Tha launch book – Sanyin Siang
9 Alchemist – Paolo Coelho
10 Sarah – Alfred Peza
11 Husband’s secret – Liane Moriarty 
12 Kafka on the shore – Haruki Murakami
13 The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle – Haruki Murakami
14 Norwegian wood – Haruki Murakami
15 The President is missing – James Patterson & Bill Clinton
16 The Origin – Dan Brown
17 The Sister – Louise Jensen
18 Oh! What a Pavlova – Isabella May
19 Rage of Angles – Sidney Sheldon
20 Y is for Yesterday – Sue Grafton
21 The 10th Anniversary – James Patterson

Rilexim për të tretën herë:
1 Qyteti I fundit – Petro Marko
2 Harku I Triumfit – Remark
3 The Trial - Kafka
4 Nothing last forever – Sidney Sheldon

Në proces leximi:
1 Mos më lër të shkoj Kazuo Ishiguro
2 In the Mids of Winter – Isabel Allende

Ju lutem mos me urreni! ;)

Sunday, November 4, 2018

A fragment of life...



She started smoking – a lot. So much that she now had yellow nicotine stains on her fingers and fingernails. For the first time in her life, Sara was having mixed feelings about her love for her work. Journalism, writing in general, was all she had ever dreamed of, though she had to find a way to escape. Every morning she promised herself that she would never set foot again in that horrible place, but by evening she’d forget everything. And yes it was true, news about culture was indeed scarce.
Maybe Andi was right.
"Hey Sara, do you have any news for us?” Her colleague Petrit had appeared beside her computer. He stared down at her while cleaning his teeth with a twig.
“I saw you walking around the National Theatre yesterday. I really felt sorry for you. Such a shame, a beautiful girl like that walking around the streets of Tirana with no purpose. Did you notice all those old men staring at you? Well, well Sara, that’s far too much excitement for these old men. I thought. I hope they took their heart pills!”
She looked up at him but didn’t answer. It was always better to say nothing.
“Give it up already, young lady,” he continued. “Can’t you see you’re not getting anywhere with the Culture News? You can barely make ends meet with your salary." 
“How do you know what my salary is?” Sara almost screamed, hating the fact that her face was burning up again.
He laughed. “Oh come on, everybody knows how little you earn. It's no secret that you’re the most underpaid employee here. Now, if you’re nice to me, and you know what I mean by that, I’ll be sure to put in a good word for you with the boss.”
Petrit was in front of her now, his right hand twirling a lock of her hair that had fallen loose on to her shoulder. Sara stood up, pushing his hand away and walked so quickly towards the toilets that she was almost running.
Hiding in a cubicle she fought to stop her tears from falling. She was tired of the men in her office: she hated Petrit circling around her all the time. It was quite obvious that his life was hell. Even worse than Sara’s. Petrit spent most of his time at the office: he would go home when his wife and their daughters were already asleep and left before they’d wake up. Sara knew, everybody did. She had seen other colleagues sitting on his lap, but Sara was never going to be one of them.
How is any of this my fault? she thought, rubbing her eyes with the cuff of her blouse. She needed to find a way to break out of the trap her life had becomeI can’t even tell Sokol. He’d kill him, or get killed. There is no escape from this hell. But then, if I quit my job now, I will be in the same shit I was in two years ago.
Sara hated to admit it, but she was never going to find a decent job unless she asked her friend Alba for help. And that was the last thing she wanted to do...