FLASH
Shkruar nga Ndriçim KULLA
Poor Tirana screams for itself, with all those gigantic thefts that are happening every day.
The project of the towers in Albania is the ego of a big dream, which will probably fill the void of his artistic creation, which he could never realize. The towers of Tirana, which are being built in secret and mystery, which were never talked about in public, are now sprouting one by one like mushrooms after the rain, are giving us the full picture of a dark project designed by a even darker mind.
If it wasn't for my mother, our prime minister ponders, in moments of the steppe in front of a complex of towers as a four-dimensional project, I would have become a really great painter. Now I don't know what I am! Homeless? It can too. I'm as tired as in the catacombs of Paris. The chic suit, a gift from a woman I don't know where it came from, I bought the shoes in Milan with the money I happen to have in my pockets (it seems to be the masterpiece of my excellent assistants and oligarch friends!). That my paintings are not for sale. (groans.) Then, I don't sell paintings. I don't even know where my money comes from anymore! Open at all.
It is not spoken more openly than that. But in such cases the judges do not call it evidence! I'm not a Caravaggio. I'm not even the Casanova of women painted on expensive canvases, because I can't do the paintings any other way. The shirts, I got a dozen of them as a gift from Berlin (keep your voice down), just for the gas I caused with the European leaders. They call it stupid, they are ashamed, their cheeks are red and their voices are weak. If they knew this evil, they would not have accepted me. I had a bad time with some of them, but the women devoured me, the late chaste ones! Yes, I did that tour, I painted their laughs, and the pain, the pretending, everything! Am I an artist? Of a country that doesn't even have 1.4 million left, but we joke and say 1.4 million belong to 80 MPs and not 140. This had to be done. God, I forgot! Who needs that much?
The Prime Minister laughs to the rafters, under the look ala Ismail Qemal, with the appearance of a classical lover of European operas. An antique lantern is missing from the office. It is really missing, but it is not felt. He paints day and night in offices. On the long table four-dimensional views of the towers. Such a long dream.
That bright look and that fine terrace that is created on those views excite him deeply, invented by perfection and the poetic ideal, to leave a strange impression, he likes it as a form, he feels envy, that he does not encounter it so often in life. This is felt in the whole atmosphere of the office and in Surreli's garages, on the walls filled with paintings. Oh my god, I have never seen such an influx of those who call me my opponents, my enemies, scribblers, from the ceiling down to the floor. Over a thousand or more paintings, a world in turmoil, a merry chaos, where a battle of Skanderbeg (which he says, but which is without Skanderbeg!) gives strange grace to a Madonna like a Kelmendi doll (also said by him!), the alleys that bring him peace, with delicate forms that cannot hide them. Epic battles and healthy women, pastoral landscapes and all-Albanian portraits, which are not visible, because they come in the language of hieroglyphs, through the concept of antiquity, and which fill the palaces and offices with a pagan music pleasantly like a harsh fantastic melody that is felt (also I feel it, that I am the only artist prime minister!) to the invisible recesses left alone.
An inquisitive eye looks with wonder at the dozens of other paintings lined up behind the doors, those incomprehensible doodles of course, just arrived from New York, who still haven't been paid the staggering rent, who have to go out with a tax bill from the government with the money Albanian taxpayers. On the tables of the prime minister's office, our famous towers where dirty money is cleaned from wherever they can, feel a piercing pain and all of Tirana hears a flood call for a long time. But poor Tirana screams for itself, with all those gigantic thefts that are happening every day.
Lini një Përgjigje