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Showing posts from October, 2016

small hearts and big wounds

i like to watch people and write their stories. i once wrote about a worker that came to fix the gas leak in my room. Another time i wrote about the homeless man i walked past every night, sometimes sober, sometimes drunk. i must have told him my own story about a thousand times. But i prefer writing his...
i write about my friends and my primary school teacher. It comes easily...
But when i write about myself, the rhythm is broken and tense.
Because, somewhere in my story way in the past, there was a man who made ME feel small, broken and tense.
i like to think i'm over that.

The importance of simple things and a love that is far in time...

I don't want to be the girl that makes you weak on the knees and makes you stutter and suffer for words to say. I don't want to be the girl that awes you with her beauty and fills your throat with the intense smell of expensive perfumes. I don't want to be the girl that takes you on wild adventures and inspires you to take risks in paths you never thought you'd take.
If I can be that girl, than I have already been her, for the sake of my youth, myself.
I just want to be the girl who throws a duvet over your shoulders when you're cold and shiver in bed.
I could rest my head on your shoulder, and you can rest your head on my head...
Then, it's up to you, to love me, hold me, look at me as if I am all that.

Albania is a female noun.

My mother tongue is my mother's tongue.
It is the language of hardworking women with sharp tongues and strong fingers.
My mother's tongue is ancient and beautiful in it's loneliness.
It is the language of poets of the north, playing with warm sounds that roll off your tongue soft, melting and full of flavour like the freshly made butter by the village women. The village women, subject of so much poetry, and love songs played at night near the chimney...
My mother tongue is not, cannot be my father's tongue. For with it's beauty and it's wilderness, it is a woman's tongue. It is the language of family, and caring, and love. It is however, a stubborn language. A difficult language. Complicated, argumentative, tiring, descriptive, long...
It is me, it is my mother, it's every woman's tongue.