FLASH
Shkruar nga Edison Ypi
There is nothing more treacherous and dangerous, no plank more rotten than a handful of unrestrained fanatics like those below the Doctor's Balcony.
It has never happened, and it will never happen, in any place, at any time, and under no circumstances, that cooperation with a band of revolted proletarians has had any positive result, much less has any purpose.
The ugliest, most worthless, most harmful and senseless political-propagandistic thing is happening outside the Doctor's Balcony.
Under that Balcony, the scum of the Nation, half of the officers from those who imprisoned and killed us, are babbling counterproductive propaganda rants that weigh no weight, that don't even need the hell, that harm our cause, but too the Doctor.
The forced confinement of the Doctor, one of the most cultured men in the country, is nothing before the most terrible punishment, the cohabitants side by side as mirror and mirror, the squeamish with the fool, the sophisticated with the blood-smelling ignoramuses. of the flesh of power.
No fact of this nature has been more foolish and out of place than this bunch of mercenaries with spoons in their belts waiting to overturn, empty, lick bowls and cauldrons.
The poor vocabulary, narrative clichés, out-of-the-box themes, extreme irresponsibility, are the shameful features of this wonder that is day by day compromising the current opposition, and is tainting all the others.
What the Doctor is doing at the top of the window and the gang that follows him down the alley is the most unproductive interaction imaginable. For a thousand very obvious reasons. It's useless to count them.
Why should this comedy continue with communist proletarians, maybe democrats, outraged, revolted ignorants, functional illiterates, when it is already more than clear that the Doctor's continuous denunciation sermons have not in the least bitten thieves and crimes - only God knows.
Perhaps it is true that some enraged with their rants in anticipation of the bone ignite the pack. The problem is that they discourage everyone else.
Where can you find my neighborhood coffee shop? Where it is spoken in a cultured, serious, responsible manner, with heart, with soul. There is no comparison with the carousing with fake militants, the free show, where only Skënder Sallaku is missing.
Someone has to come alive to fix something. For example, make a rule to speak every night only 1 orator. Not every palace that acts as a loyalist, as a staunch. Someone for the whole thing, someone with a cheek, someone who doesn't make a fuss, who knows how to connect words, who says something, who is able to convey an idea. Otherwise, tell the ridiculous gang to go home, and never be seen again.
It is known that in Albania what happens on the street is more dramatic than what happens on stage. Even what happens under the pillow, under the mattress, under the tent, under the bridge, is incomparably more important and interesting than what happens under the balcony.
To give an example. The genius Noli, being a priest, could not but be a little communist. One evening, under the balcony, a smiling butch, with errors of illiteracy and cooperative pathos, read the most communist verses of the genius Nol. Buçkoja did not even give the correct title to the communist masterpiece of the Cologne priest. The poem that in the dictatorship was taught to the nursery rhymes and is called "Anes Luminje" the proletarian below the balcony without batting an eyelash called it "Anes Lumit". Good thing he didn't call her "Anna Lana".
Never mind that the Doctor can't wait to be freed from the yoke of stupidity below the balcony. I must be heartbroken by every idiotic word that comes out of the mouths of rabid lumpens. Yes, there is nothing to do. I don't know how to keep them.
As for me, why do I see that macabre spectacle every night? Thanks for the sly question spy friend. I don't see that I like it. I see it because I apply the immortal Lagushian principle; Laftari terribly beautiful.
Hey God, what has found us; Why is he a doctor, you should definitely surround him with a hospital.
They call "kamikaze" those who put the rifle in the cheek and return the plate within a minute. God, don't tell us what you have.
It had never occurred to me that the Doctor who knows by heart the "Letter of Tatyana Oniegin", verses, poems, prose, from the most prominent authors of the world, the connoisseur of classic and modern literature at his fingertips, the one who with the fiery word, the compressed thought, and the full soul, the one who in all these years has lifted the weight of the mountains, the horse and the horse, big and small, even the dead, even the stupid, even the stones of the road, this Doctor is forced to stay so close to a gang communist in delirium. There is no more terrible and undeserved punishment.
Is it the Doctor's fault? Yes there are. For one thing. The one who doesn't go out to the balcony says to the scattered guests of the alley:
Gentlemen, clientelists, mercenarists, regionalists, I brought you here. Then do as you know. Thank you for helping the revolution. From today, from now, from this moment, run away, and never come back. Stick your neck out.
Lini një Përgjigje