THE STORY OF ONE OF THEM

Prose by: Migjeni

- Who doesn't remember? Who remembers, my friend, that?

- Who? Which one? Which one?

- That! One of those!

- Which one of those is hers? They are many! Which young (or old) does not know at least two of them?! Why are there so many? Why are there so many men, so many women, that's why they should also have bodies that are sold in relative numbers... So, who is one of them?

- Luke, Luke! Don't you remember Luke? I don't believe it... you pretend... Or maybe you will deny that you know him? I'm sorry, but the famous one does not go here: who dares - wins! This goes up! Will you deny that you know Luke? Under the pretext that you are honest... Don't be, don't be afraid that I won't call you dishonest. But you, at the very least, are sure to know one of Luke's legitimate sisters, just as you know Luke himself. Their life is one. They're all the same and they all give you what you're looking for - first hand.

And good Luke, merciful Luke—for she was equally divine—desirable Luke truly never said no to anyone. The students come, I don't think they have bad intentions, they just come with a friend who was also a student. When doing work with the first, Lukja said to the other: how much lek do you have in your pocket?

- Four.

- Come on - she said to the second, third and fourth in turn and took them to her house.

Well, her tax was three francs. But Lukja was more kind-hearted, more humanitarian than most people who need a dog like that.

First, the students entered with him, blushing, but when they came for the second time, before entering, they looked to the right and to the left to make sure no one saw them, and then quickly entered through the door like a rifle bullet. Lukja sometimes took a serious pose and shouted:

- Why did you come? Who are you looking for? This is not what you are looking for...

The students got confused, got speechless, looked at their husbands, blushed and started to go back. Then Lukja would blow gas, laugh with all her heart and take them by the hand in her room. Sometimes he would fight with them, because one of them would kiss his arm and undress him, grab him or caress his face, just as only a man who has married a priest or a priest has the right to grab his wife, then Lukja would say to him:

- Don't play, you vagabond! Stay wise - and slap the face.

The boy didn't move, he laughed and tried to grab her hand.

When they were late for coffee in conversation, she said to everyone: run away because their fathers are coming, or sometimes she only said to the youngest:

- Go, it's too late... Now it's time for you to come.

In these rare gas plastic words, your son seemed to say:

- My father is honest, he is not like me...

At that time, the friends and Lukja laughed heartily at the friend's stupidity and idiocy. Someone jokingly asked Luke:

- Luke, where on earth do you have the jacket?

- Come on, see him in the room...

- With all pleasure...

- Do you have three francs?

- Yes, I have three lek...

- Go, get a bird... for three lek you will see America...

But I said that Lukja was more humanitarian than those who need to be like that. I feel young, that he did not earn the lek himself, he accepted it with three lek, of course when there was a shortage. Around the name Luke, especially around her body, a certain halo (nimbus) was created like around the pride of the devils. So much so that some people felt sorry for calling her a whore, and tried to soften the meaning of the word, they called her prostitute, public woman, problematic woman - with names they had found while reading books. Especially Njen, who never uttered dirty words, was sorry to call Luke a whore. He himself never called it, but even when he said who, his ear hurt as if someone was scratching the plate with the tip of a fork. The word whore was for him a rude dissonance in the harmonious melody that Lukja promised. He called Luke a whore, it seemed to him the same as calling the priest a woman because he has ears (veladon). He also spread the word prostitute.

The sentimentality of young people about Luke goes even deeper; they often beat each other alone for her sake. It produces nana - earth, it produces creatures with and without a soul, it produces and creates both in millions of years and in seconds, it produces forms that warmed up to each other to produce again other and new forms to continue life. And it is the same: as the desire of a worm and the desire of man. With production. It's just that the worm does not know that it produces, it does not have the consciousness of production, but man does, he knows, he understands, he feels it together with the energies that are consumed, which must be consumed. And here, only here, we do not feel another imaginative reduction of man, but in the consciousness of creation lies the difference between the worm and man. The worm creates, does its worm work (destroys the wood) and continues to eat; man creates, produces technical works, architecture, art, literature, just as he produces his own human race. They are the energies that are needed according to the god of each person, the energies that all originate from one source. Melancholy, thinking, often nervous, are the effects of accumulated energy, which has nowhere to vent. And, the fantasy of young people creates halos of devils around the body of a woman for sale, who has linked the productive instinct with material interests, because society, directly or indirectly, forced her. And in Luke's room, the energies of the young people were dissipated. If they were not to be dissolved there, they would be dissolved, unnaturally, refined, invented by themselves, where intellect and lust joined together.

- Luke, so-so... How beautiful your eyes are... - the boy spoke to him. She was silent.

- How beautiful and who here... here... here...

- So, get vagabond! Come, finish the work you came for...

A squint in the intimacy of the bats, irregular breathing, sometimes I feel a bite, I feel a slap or even a slap on the body of the bats... Sometimes Luke was also filled with boundless sadness. That thing we call soul hurt him, but only once in a while, why if it hurt him more often God would kick him out, why Lukja then in those rare moments broke glasses, china, mirrors, and whatever he could get his hands on . In those moments, he did not even accept visitors. Maybe Luke's soul was hurting, why were all the boys' energies going to waste? Perhaps she also wanted you to produce, as nana produces - earth and every other creature?

Oh, how sad, he felt physical pain when he remembered that I am a woman who does not produce. A doll, a toy with money to dedicate to him and forget all those evil hours when the boss is drenched in mud.

Read too "General houses" of Zog's time