FLASH
Shkruar nga Lutfi Dervishi
This arrogance that recognizes neither order nor authority, but only the mania to feel "brave" over the other, is the real bullet.
(Reflection on a tragedy that Konica predicted a century ago)
"The bravery of the Albanian is not golden, it is tin... those who are not afraid of the bullet, tremble at Vali."
Faik Konica, Work 1, p. 271-272
A century ago, Faik Konica seemed to know the "last coffee" well. He described it, as he knew it, as a bravery that ignites for empty words and is extinguished for great ideas. Yesterday, in Manëz, two young men were killed for a cup that could not be filled with coffee.
Two lives lost. Two families in mourning. A city in shock and a society awaiting the next disaster.
Why?
Why are we killing in vain?
For a deck chair?
For a parking space?
For a car scratch?
For a "why did you see me"?
For a water line?
Why...why did you turn on the high beams?
For a word?
Why this primitive reaction that ignites faster than a shot of coffee?
Is the event in Manëz a crime or a reflection of a social illness?
In every television "debate", in every confrontation in Parliament, in every Facebook status, in every street brawl, the same breath, the same fury: "Do you know who I am?!"
This arrogance that recognizes neither order nor authority, but only the mania to feel "brave" over the other, is the real bullet.
The culture of violence has put an end to the culture of dialogue. Arrogance and arrogance have paved the way for self-judgment.
The police come after the crime, but the crime starts in the mind. And no one patrols the mind.
We need to disarm the mind before we punish just the possession of weapons.
Children should be educated, not with "where were your hands?", but with "don't speak ill of anyone"...
Konica would not be ashamed today. He would simply be disappointed reading the news of the day. He would not ask: "How did the Albanian manage to make the bullet faster than words and logic?".
He would say: "There you are! You no longer fear Vali, but you no longer have respect for life either. Your bravery never became gold. It remained tin. And now, a century later, it is killing itself."
We kill for a cup of coffee, because first we killed the thought. We killed the word! And when the word dies, even life has no price!
A century ago, Konica saw this wound and called it "tin bravery."
A century later, this tin can rings every day on our screens, on our networks, on our streets.
Until we learn to love life more than "pride," every cup of coffee can become coffee of death.
Vini dy gra komshie vjerre e nuse e terre verr verr te merrnin koken me fjale. nje here u prishen me njera tjetren e vinin nje nga nje e shanin njera tjetren, por mamaja ime qe ishte zonje pa fjale nuk ua bente qefin. Nje dite i them nenes, pse ua hap deren ketyre grave te liga qelbesira. Jo, me tha nuk eshte mire se jane komshie. Por ti mor djale mos fol ashtu, me tha. Mami ajo jane bajga i thash me acarojne nervat. Bir mos flit keq per njeri se te mesohet goja e gjuha te flasesh keq. Pas ca ditesh erdhen te dyja per krahu e putheshin me njera tjetren vjerre e nuse. Mami kishe te drejte i thashe nenes. Po, hap syte, hap veshet e mbyll gojen se goja te hap pune e te merr jeten, me tha nena ime mencur.