By Fatos Kongoli
Bledi Terziu, un reportero de l. a. crónica negra sin trabajo y abandonado por su pareja, se desespera en los angeles soledad de su recién instalado apartamento en el centro de Tirana cuando es visitado por una joven gitana. De resultas de sus escarceos, de forma unintended aunque no inocente, l. a. muchacha muere y, entre el inútil intento de ocultación del crimen y los angeles confusa desesperación por no ser culpable y considerarse sin embargo responsable, nuestro hombre reconstruye su pasado oscuro y depressing, por los vericuetos de l. a. Tirana opresiva del régimen comunista y l. a. corrupta e insensata de los angeles transición, hasta llegar al año 2004, plenamente instalada los angeles nueva sociedad liberal, con todo el brillo de sus luces y l. a. oscuridad de sus lacras.
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Extra info for La vida en una caja de cerillas
It wasn’t so much the dark that worried her as the wildlife. She’d run into a rattlesnake in a gas station restroom in 29 Kathleen Eagle Arizona and a black bear in Glacier. She had a healthy respect for a wild animal’s survival instincts. She nearly jumped out of her skin when her light flashed on a pair of glowing eyes. ” The dog answered. Relief. Nice dog. Good dog. It wasn’t every dog that could say his own name. He escorted her to the privy, stood guard while she used it, then shepherded her back again.
She was Earth Woman. At her back he was wishing he’d stolen all the bras from her luggage before he’d turned it over to her earlier. Her white shirt had turned transparent in the rain. He glanced at the sweater she’d pulled off under the sun and stuffed under her butt for a seat cushion, which was the only thing it was good for now, wet as it was. Wet as she was, as they both were. One of the fish flipped its tail against the bottom of the canoe, welcoming the rain. But it was Heather’s tail that interested Kole.
He nodded, watching her closely as she fit the wooden tube to her lips. It took her several tries to get a sound out of it. “So I skipped a lot of music lessons when I was a kid,” she confessed as she experimented with finger placements on the holes. ” “Violin. ” “She’s right,” he said, moving behind her. ” She caught his eye over her shoulder as his arms came around her. ” “I don’t know much about ladies. ” He placed the index and middle fingers of her left hand over the first two holes. ” He covered her right hand with his, placing three fingers on the remaining three holes, then lifting the middle one.
La vida en una caja de cerillas by Fatos Kongoli