Albania, a plastic and artificial people

Albania, the Motherland-Etland, for Arabs, is not land under foot, but a stretch of the sea. It is a time spent at night in the sea, in the darkness, almost as bright as the stars can make you, while the sky is clear. I know I have them embedded in my blood and in my memory of voices in the dark, “impressioning”, for mothers who comfort their children, for simple men who, as they sail, pet women.

Anyway, we got away, we got there, and as soon as we got our legs caught and, in Durazzo-Durra, a bunch of kids are looking for handouts, they're gonna have to be kids, but they accept everything else to hit in their hand; they're seen, the money changers among Tirana's buses waving flocks of bills in the air. A euro should be worth 130 dollars, but here it is not that they adhere to the exchange rate. On a passenger bus, everyone realizes we're strangers, and coming from Italy. Many of them are willing to communicate in Italian; just a few reasons to talk. They tell you about the city where they worked or traveled by side.

Tirana is a city occupied by advertising, especially those of telephone companies, posters of smiling young people, and giant facades that have sided with buildings contain hybrid linguistic slogans of a new language: Italian-Albanian with cherry on English cake: like,king,... Tirana is a city surrounded by Western winds, and is still perceived, from the fascist period, such as the courtyard of the West, a new territory to download stock of goods, but perhaps this is what Albania itself wants, a structured country, a buffer zone, no meat or fish, either geographically or culturally.

And in Europe it is seen more and more clearly that it has been reached at an irreversible decadent stage, living in conflicting, unjust society, bank and finance prey, free of human values, without faith, besides the beliefs of money, the citizens here are quick to become officially part of Europe! It is no longer known to facilitate tradition, early knowledge, community cultural heritage, to privatise perhaps everything, precious public things, mineral resources, water... to show that we have been transformed into what others have long been. Walking on time means modernism!

Policy people, or as they are called from these sides “politicians”, have been corrupted and done in these new post-communist democracies, along with them and the remoted people; the common people, think they possess the <x2ndlandorre” cunning, trade, trade cunning, exchanges with a plus-pout of mountain knowledge. It turns out that European finances, government officials, European bankers are one step back compared to Albania. That's their perception here.

The world of culture is a permanent site with world-run windows, especially from the United States; the fever is activity “extracting” of English translations in hopes of discovering any future novel “Nobelist”. Writers, English-speaking poets from the most diverse are read and translated by a trained team of scholars and otherwise Albanian poets and literary poets are largely ignored by the rest of the world.

Said my friend Robert Elsie that Albania, with arguments, clashes, with its kidnapped dialectics is like spreading into an aquarium, an obloia. Out of the world you don't hear anything, you don't know anything, you see only one thermal act... one against another...

Youth, a youth social group, tries to look like the West in Stenographic B LLOK, packed with bars, placed face to face, and cars of large cylinders properly exposed the dagger... could be enough to say, transitional.

What about language, or better neo-giuha? It is a television language, the language of Italian and European forms - the same movements, the same supplications, the same meetings, the same debates. On the ferry TV, I happened to watch “Open study”, Italian program “Studio ApertoSyliconi zombie” Bruno Vespa! This mm”! The beaten topic, without much conviction, was the victims of Albanian KOMUNIZM! But why isn't it discussed the rights of workers, the dictatorship of politicians and their relatives, who employ whom they want in their public offices, in energy companies? Why aren't we talking about the lack of support of unions-based? How do employees protect their rights?

Mister, it's better to talk about Uncle Enver; yet he can't hurt anybody! Even the Albanian people, who had long been fed by Logos spread by RAI and Mediaset's parabolas, are now drunk with another Logos, made up of themselves, redefining Italian cuisine, whose skills have even given him pots and formats. The recruited public, in dignified clothing, participates in studios and shakes hands, just like in Italy and Europe.

Albania is becoming a people of television, a plastic, artificial, fruit of anthropological, sociologist planning, through a democratic slaughter tested with mas-mediological weapons. Indeed, a true European people. (...)

I'm on a journey again, an amniotic trip to the Mediterranean, a trip to the night of the metaphors.

*Poet Arberesh. The title is editorial. Author Title: Divided travel notes. Much of the text has been left unexplored so that it does not lose its authenticity.