FLASH
Shkruar nga Sokol Pepushaj
Every step back by Edi Rama and every centimeter forward by Sali Berisha, the railings of time only deafen your ears like an alarm orchestra of both; hey PR people, there are no more letters without envelopes, so there are no postcards...
It's not Edi Rama's fault that he's walking backwards. It's Saliu's fault that he woke up from his lethargic sleep and is marching towards a fate as thin as a cigarette paper, to read the enigmatic message of diplomatic darkness in our village.
There are no postcards from America, neither for Rama nor for Berisha.
Our lesson today is simple. If diplomatic darkness has suddenly enveloped our country, which shines with corruption, all the thieves have been caught in a trap.
If they were little thieves, they would still be playing like children.
From childhood, I remember how a guy my age would go and post New Year's cards to himself, and the whole village would be surprised at how many friends he had.
Edi Rama has no way out of civilization to send himself postcards. Even Soros and Blinken are not today's spoiled children, uncontrolled by adults, who post postcards to discuss our village, how many friends this strange man of ours has.
Communication lines have been broken through postcards, where the subject matter is not important at all, but the photo on the back and the address it comes from.
It would be enough for Yuri Kim to post one, even one like; The wind blew outside/ The silk curtains swayed/ Don't think I forgot you/ I sent you a postcard, and the whole village would be discussing, yes, he's great, this guy has a friend in America.
Rama has no friends, nor does he receive postcards.
I believe you see that with every step back by Edi Rama and every centimeter forward by Sali Berisha, the railings of time only deafen your ears like an orchestra of alarm for both of them, hey PR, there are no more letters without envelopes, so there are no postcards.
The contract with crime has been stripped bare, down to the bone.
Newsrooms, even these, worm-like legs exposed in urban expeditions, are unable to digest the lightning information backwards.
Lightning is not coming down from the Sky, but rising from the Earth!
SPAK has no power to discharge electricity. It can't even comb the "lice" of the deer Olta Xhaçka and Frida Krifca under the light of justice, let alone unleash lightning on lions and tigers.
The god of all powers in the isolated village is Edi Rama. Whenever the need arises, Babloku breaks the clouds on the blackened horizon of the big game, why not, perhaps with envelopes sealed by Alex Soros, after all, postcards haven't come from the continent across the Atlantic for a long time.
The king of political darkness, although small for the big game, has also become a poet in his creations about his own horror.
Every shadow that follows him, he plucks out as a spiritual adventure and takes his soul with artistic accusations, because in this time when he doesn't even trust tomorrow, it's not bad for Babloku to be afraid of himself.
Fearing a big victory, that is, a big theft of the votes of May 11, from the 90 deputies he swore he would get, he has gone into reverse gear and dropped to 71.
Dusty files and handcuffs that time has not rusted are the treasure that is being sewn up like a coffin for thieves.
This message comes in a sealed envelope that all of you who have been asking us for days, and rightly so, why aren't postcards coming from America?!/ Pamphlet
Lini një Përgjigje