Anthology of wounds - Arct

Anthology of WoundsAll got up their hands.That moment I saw Ema. She kept the daughter thatdidn’t cry any more on the chest instinctively. Ema’s fingerswas trembling, all the anxiety was discharged toher hands. She was pale, as a brown leaf, on the treethat was trembling from the winter frozen wind.* * *This time we didn’t need a truck. With some stuffson the hand and the daughter on the arms, we took thebus for Bajram Curri, where will stay temporarily , asthe government to decide. We were accommodated atthe old hotel of the city. To live Ema worked for sometime in the policlinic. Temporally, every time in suspense.This did not last, It was not so easy. The instructionof the central committee after didn’t accept in Fierzawas, “To accommodate far of borders and far of people.”This second one was difficult. The commission of thedeportation and interments worked intensively withmaps and data. Comrade Manush had find a place atthe end, in Martanesh a formerly sacred place turnednow to hospital. Far of villages, near a rock, so lonelyand around tombs without no namesVery far, far of borders…And far of people too…233