Kushtrim Thaqi - Dried Rose

Life, death, and inhumanity in between

My friend described the way he buried him under the moonlight; A white dog, buried under the bright– full moon light; He cried.
I didn’t.



We get old!
Just like the stories we tell
just like the words we share.


Here it comes again that time of year that time, when the air I breath, turns weird that time,  when the words I usually use lose their strength, their feel they start to vanish leaving me, leaving me here   That time, when I feel weak, incomplete like I’m missing a limb or another part…


I am lost. I really am! The taste of her skin still runs through my lips, and my memories are stuck with her beautiful voice. I stand now in front of her grave. Her grave is closed, her face I can’t see, yet, she still stands in front of me.  I am lost. I really…