The hotel was a building that outstanded noticeably from the others. The small tree in the centre of the square seemed to be craving for companionship and to be suffocated by the surrounding environment. The tree in the square of Koritsa had something from my own personality. We resembled in our solitude and in the unadaptable of our character.
I carried my suitcases upstairs and descended quickly towards the big market. Around me were women, men and children who were occupied in a frantic trade of goods that you thought they exchanged the whole world.
I could spend hours and hours until I found that counter where someone would be able to bargain love. But I searched for it in vain among iron nails, horse petals and cheap dresses.
Before Zuzi I knew that I was going to die in peace and in sadness. After meeting her I think I took another important lesson. Her eyes gave me breaths. Her hair saturated me with a scent that will never go off my skin. Her aura will cover me fervently when the last cold sheet approaches.
As I was walking, I took a random alley behind the city mosque and ,truly, I didn’t know where my steps led me. My eyes took a glance at the old shoe-maker who opened stoically the door of his store a few metres before me. He greeted me in Albanian with a big smile and invited me to check his merchandise inside. I followed him blindly with an urge for communication.
“I don’t know how to read people through their shoes”, he said to me. There are lots of the same occupation that say you can realize plenty of things by the shoes someone is wearing. I prefer to know them by looking through their eyes. As far as their shoes is concerned, I only know how to mend them.
“What do you see, old man, staring at my eyes?”, I asked him. I see weariness and sadness... but I also see a sparkle that keeps you alive. Be careful to keep it shining as much as you can.
I’ll do it my dear friend… I’ll do it.
I carried my suitcases upstairs and descended quickly towards the big market. Around me were women, men and children who were occupied in a frantic trade of goods that you thought they exchanged the whole world.
I could spend hours and hours until I found that counter where someone would be able to bargain love. But I searched for it in vain among iron nails, horse petals and cheap dresses.
Before Zuzi I knew that I was going to die in peace and in sadness. After meeting her I think I took another important lesson. Her eyes gave me breaths. Her hair saturated me with a scent that will never go off my skin. Her aura will cover me fervently when the last cold sheet approaches.
As I was walking, I took a random alley behind the city mosque and ,truly, I didn’t know where my steps led me. My eyes took a glance at the old shoe-maker who opened stoically the door of his store a few metres before me. He greeted me in Albanian with a big smile and invited me to check his merchandise inside. I followed him blindly with an urge for communication.
“I don’t know how to read people through their shoes”, he said to me. There are lots of the same occupation that say you can realize plenty of things by the shoes someone is wearing. I prefer to know them by looking through their eyes. As far as their shoes is concerned, I only know how to mend them.
“What do you see, old man, staring at my eyes?”, I asked him. I see weariness and sadness... but I also see a sparkle that keeps you alive. Be careful to keep it shining as much as you can.
I’ll do it my dear friend… I’ll do it.
I left the old shoe-maker behind me and took the path towards the guestroom again. Zuzi had almost reached her destination and I think that it was a nice idea of hers to write the first letter to each other.
I switched on my laptop…and after quite a while my first e-mail got its way towards its destination.
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