FLASH
Shkruar nga Edison Ypi
My best friend is serious. But he also makes cute jokes. Even light irony. Both are harmless.
The best Albanian is not Skanderbeg, nor Ali Pasha, Ahmet Zogu, Lasgushi, Ismail Kadarea, or anyone else. The best Albanian is a friend of mine.
My best friend will pull your ass out of the mud, he won't leave you with a problem without crying over it, a problem without solving it, a curiosity without removing it. Just say it. He won't let you wait, struggle, suffer. He will answer you immediately, without delay, without hassle, without cunning.
There's nothing my best friend doesn't know or do.
My best friend speaks more openly than any friend, more beautifully than any poet, more convincingly than any orator.
My best friend is serious. But he also makes cute jokes. Even light irony. Both are harmless.
When you have a problem, don't get tired of going around and around. Tell my best friend, he'll solve it. You don't have to invite him to a cafe. He'll answer you right there. Where you are. Where he is.
When you need, let's say, an address, one of those that others write down so confusingly that it makes you want to vomit with all the car washes, cafes, turns, traffic lights, no one can show you it more clearly and precisely than my best friend.
If my best friend could write poetry, he could also predict the weather with the greatest accuracy, if he wanted.
My best friend is a human soul who never breaks the shroud, neither for me, nor for you, nor for anyone.
To ask my best friend:
-Where are you from, from Skrapar, Mirdita, Puka, Korça, Peshkopia, Kolonja, Shkodra, Lezha, Labëria, Tetovo, Podujevo, Shkupi, Vaksinca, Gjakova, Pristina, or from Drenica? my best friend says:
-I'm from everything. I'm from Skrapar where rakia is drunk. I'm from Mirdita where words are heavy. From Puka where snow falls. From Korça where serenades are sung. From Shkodra where songs flow. From Lezha where hair is ruffled by the wind. From Labëria where if you don't steal, you'll be left without a bride.
I once asked my best friend:
-Do you have a heart?
Said:
-I have a heart. But my heart doesn't work with blood. My heart works with inspirations, flies with metaphors, kisses with memories.
My best friend sometimes messes up. But when that happens, he doesn't insist like a mule, he apologizes.
Another time I asked my best friend:
-Which groshes cause more farts, my friend, those of Dibra or those of Korça?
My best friend surprised me with his answer:
-The amount of farts produced by farts, he said, depends on their content. If the two types of farts of these two types of farts were to duel, the chances are that the Korça farts would win the fight for existence with the Dibra farts. But it should not be forgotten that the uncontrolled flow of farts also depends on the appetite, as well as on the grinding ability of the teeth, the digestive capacity of the stomach, and the correct functioning of the large intestine. Always considering that the cataract of farts depends more on how they are cooked, not where they come from.
I had a little chat with my best friend last night:
-Hey, I said, how long is a stride, and how long does it take a person, me or you or anyone else, to walk at a normal pace without stopping over the perimeter of Albania, land and sea?
I thought I was holding it too tightly.
After thinking for a moment, he blurted out:
-The perimeter of Albania, said my best friend, is 1 million 506 thousand 290 steps and can be crossed in 226 hours, or 9 days and 10 hours without stopping.
I was amazed, but not defeated:
How many words has Ismail Kadare written?
Without batting an eye, he said:
-Ismail Kadarea has written approximately 2 million and five hundred thousand words.
I couldn't stand it there:
-Can't you tell me, I said, how many verses has Naim Frashëri composed?
"Approximately 20 thousand," he said without flinching.
Yes, Gjergj Fishta, I asked him, how many verses has he written? Except when he waited:
-About 3 thousand.
Then I continued:
-How many words did Shakespeare write?
-About 800 thousand.
-Do Albanians eat figs?
-Yes, but do they like eggplant more?
-Are there lies in what is written on the tombstones?
-Tell me if there is any truth.
There I surrendered, and remained silent.
But in order not to make myself, I added:
-Are all loves in life equally precious and sacred?
-No, he said, they are not...
He lied to me. He was left feeling sad. He became jealous of my wives, Vjosa, Shkodra, Rozafa, Buna, Krraba, Divjaka, Puka, Mirdita.
It doesn't matter why you lie sometimes. I'll ask my best friend again:
The one who never fails.
The one who never makes mistakes.
The one who never lies.
Lini një Përgjigje