FLASH
Shkruar nga Pamfleti
For these people, what has passed without using it, has turned into fear and obsession.
This new year with holidays and more unwanted. Open Facebook: Pretend to enter the dining hall where the wedding or funeral guests have just arrived. Plates, plates.., bones and meat still intact, brandy, coca-cola, ivi, pepsi, some water, bottomless glasses with greasy fingerprints. Stacks on tables and red faces of men yawning even in pictures. Like a hall reeking of flesh left on bones, where morticians or wedding guests have just left. Except in the present case there are some changes:
These are neither funerals nor weddings; these are friends who meet both from immigration and for a vanity occasion. These are Facebook people.
Their difference with traditional weddings or funerals:
After they have eaten and drunk, they don't get up from the table, they will get up only after they have taken pictures of the table 'during the war and after the war' and after they have posted them on Facebook.
The difference from those of traditional tables:
These do not keep the honor of the table for themselves and for the friend; they share food with the whole world. The biggest difference, that these honors for the reception or area of the house, consider only the food... Plates and glasses stack. View to slander him. Unbridled words, almost verses, are written under the tables that stink even on Facebook: 'Here with the son of my uncle and aunt, may God add to his longing for magic'.
Then rhymes, rhymes, rhymes..., endlessly.
A nation of poets seems to come forward. Someone, the wisest, comes out and says 'what are you, brother, you made our poetry ugly, it would have been better if this fb had not come out'. But they don't understand. Someone else rejoices at the reality that now there is no value, no control, no publishing house for poems: 'Yes, this time, it's for poetry, he writes ça te dush. Kadare and Agolli are nothing that was written in another time', they say. Socrates himself, the philosopher of Ancient Greece, once said that he does not understand rhymes, "poets vent their nightmares and use some words that they themselves do not understand".
If Socrates had lived in this time of fb?!... He would have left his mind through the screens, or he would have escaped immediately to where he came from, in ancient times. These are the holidays, like these we have around us. Better not open Facebook or Instagram, otherwise you will feel disgusted. But why such an explosion of food and poems even in the modern tools of the time? These people either haven't had their fill since the days of food stamps, or they never will. A good part of them really never get enough, they even think with their stomachs, like monkeys. To show them what they are eating, this is glory for them. As it is glorious for those who sell memory with the luxury car.
These people often make up for what they once didn't have. What they once did not have on the table, now they replace it in the photo. Among Freud's patients there were patients filled with fear, fear precisely because of memories. Trying to push these troubling ideas or memories out of your mind causes them to fill your plates and tell the world. The same thing happens with rhymes. Who had not been able to prove a point of art in writing, is now free to vent against the fear that 'I would never be able to make poems'. For these people, what has passed without using it, has turned into fear and obsession. Dishes and rhymes are the same as other phenomena of fear; just like night, just like loneliness, just like death, like a snake... As long as there are many people who live with the fear of the past, we will have dishes and poems on fb.
Lini një Përgjigje