FLASH
Shkruar nga Lutfi Dervishi
For the first time in many years, the social media world seems dormant. We, who have doctorates to deal with other people's affairs, went on a digital fast...
Saturday. As every day, the sun rose over the mountain of Dajti, the coffee has the same taste, the price has not changed. The euro is holding on against the lek, but something seems strange in the capital.
Silence.
Eerie silence.
It's not the silence that follows when the lights go out, or when you hear the news that 15 million tourists visited the country this summer.
It is a very different silence.
The streets are quiet. No one is arguing loudly in the coffee shop about what has befallen this country, no one is looking up to look at the TV screens to see the latest news.
The usual 1,000-comment debates on Facebook about politics, football, sunbed prices or which public figure was the first to get botoxed lips disappeared as if by magic.
Silence.
People this Saturday are doing something unthinkable, unimaginable, inexplicable: Everyone is seeing their own work?!
Silence gave way to panic.
No one has posted today the news that the pyramids in Giza were secretly built by the Illyrians, no one is announcing that Alexander the Great, Napoleon, Washington and Bush are of Albanian origin. No one is telling me how to dress, what to eat, how to think? What should I read? Where to rest?
And who would have dreamed of an Albania with empty comment sections, quiet WhatsApp groups, and news on Facebook without conspiracy theories, without propaganda and without moral judgments.
The baker across the street, who always comments on the extra pounds when I buy two pies, just gave me the change and a nod with a smile. The curious neighbor who usually asks: what's your cousin's job, this time passed with a "good morning"
In Durrës, 25 km west of Tirana, a woman posted a photo with her new haircut, but the post passed without any comment that she looked better last summer, that she was a star and a superstar.
The Prime Minister posted the 77th inspection from the Great Ring and no well done/well done/giants in the comments!
Mothers and grandmothers scrolled through the Instagram of daughters and granddaughters without writing "When are we having a wedding?"
For the first time in many years, the social media world seems dormant. We, who have doctorates to deal with other people's affairs, went on a digital fast. Posts about politics were left without comments, inspirational quotes about life were orphaned, and no one felt the need to announce that they had "unfriended" someone.
After panic came confusion.
The TV presenters, who didn't leave a chance without showing with video clips where they spent their vacations, were seen calmly knitting laces live on TV. Influencers, after realizing that no one cared if they recommended face cream or French fries, started doing real work. The famous cycle of debates in Albania fell into an existential crisis: How can this nation move forward without getting busy/angry about "Celo's mustache"?
But, surprisingly, Albania's economy flourished. Not wasting time on social networks, people returned to their real jobs. Road traffic improved. Drivers weren't that distracted while driving, as their phones fell silent. No messages/notifications. Instead of posting on facebook/insta/tiktok, people started reading books.
But not everyone was happy.
"How will I live if people don't comment on everything I do during the day," said one preacher.
Others complained about the loss of the traditional "public court" ceremony.
Panic gave way to fear of the unknown.
The collective desire to mind other people's business came back like volcanic lava.
One day, maybe tomorrow someone will break the sacred code. Someone will post something and the floodgates will open. A nation of couch philosophers and cuppa experts can't hold back for long.
But for now, let's enjoy the brief moment when everyone is minding their own business—a brief and glorious utopia where people live and let others live, their lives.
Lini një Përgjigje