Translated by Mia-Alexandra Sky He rolled up the shutters covering the shopfront and looked at his watch. The hands were stopped at four-thirty in the afternoon, heralding another day. “C.C.”…
I met Ramiz Beka beside the National Theatre building, which no longer exists. Before we sat down at a café along the pedestrian street, he asked me in great detail…
It is like speaking of the bud and thinking of the flower, describing sickness and hoping for healing, talking about life and forgetting death. This is what this occurrence is…