Post by Anittas on Oct 5, 2011 11:06:19 GMT -5
I met them in Sweden, in Malmoe. I haven't met any Kosovarë outside of Sweden.
It's funny when I think about it. Most of these Kosovarës were tall and skinny. One of them looked like he was being rehabilitated from Auschwitz. He thought he was John Wayne or something, sitting on a bench with a knife in his hand and slicing his apple. Then he would slowly bring his knife with the apple slice to his mouth. He was the pack leader, or something. He was quieter, trying to give a sense of wisdom. When he spoke, the others remained quiet. His tone was lower and decisive.
Then there were two Albanians who were rather small, a bit robust, and with darker skin complexion. One of them looked just weird, as if his face was burning and his eyes were melting on his face. The other one looked like a Greek-gone-wrong. They didn't say much, but they were surely pissed about something. Maybe they were pissed because they didn't look Albanian, I don't know. When they finally did speak, you wish they hadn't.
Back to the tall guys: there was this Albanian who was more energetic and tried to be funny. He was sort of street smart, having lived in Paris and stuff. When he felt the group needed a culture boost, he would say something in French. The rest smiled and looked in admiration. Yes, what a happy group we all were. I almost asked him about Voltaire and Pascal.
As for the good guys, there were two. One was quite strong, with dark hair and muscular features. He was the true leader and everyone acknowledged that. You could see it on their face. I mean, the guy with the knife was the leader of the coffee break; but when work had to be done, it was the muscular guy that owned the place. He was genuinely nice and humble, so he had no rivals. Everyone liked him, even I liked him. He knew his limits and he was aware of the order of things. Dare I say, he was kind of smart.
The other guy was also nice; he wore glasses and was out-of-shape. But he was nice and he was smiling. He was the intellectual of the group, or at least that's how he looked like. You know, the kind of Balkan intellectual that asks NATO to bomb Serbs because the French Revolution said so. Or something. Hell, I don't know. It's not that he was articulate. Far from it. But he looked smart and that was good enough for them.
So there you have it, the Kosovarës.
It's funny when I think about it. Most of these Kosovarës were tall and skinny. One of them looked like he was being rehabilitated from Auschwitz. He thought he was John Wayne or something, sitting on a bench with a knife in his hand and slicing his apple. Then he would slowly bring his knife with the apple slice to his mouth. He was the pack leader, or something. He was quieter, trying to give a sense of wisdom. When he spoke, the others remained quiet. His tone was lower and decisive.
Then there were two Albanians who were rather small, a bit robust, and with darker skin complexion. One of them looked just weird, as if his face was burning and his eyes were melting on his face. The other one looked like a Greek-gone-wrong. They didn't say much, but they were surely pissed about something. Maybe they were pissed because they didn't look Albanian, I don't know. When they finally did speak, you wish they hadn't.
Back to the tall guys: there was this Albanian who was more energetic and tried to be funny. He was sort of street smart, having lived in Paris and stuff. When he felt the group needed a culture boost, he would say something in French. The rest smiled and looked in admiration. Yes, what a happy group we all were. I almost asked him about Voltaire and Pascal.
As for the good guys, there were two. One was quite strong, with dark hair and muscular features. He was the true leader and everyone acknowledged that. You could see it on their face. I mean, the guy with the knife was the leader of the coffee break; but when work had to be done, it was the muscular guy that owned the place. He was genuinely nice and humble, so he had no rivals. Everyone liked him, even I liked him. He knew his limits and he was aware of the order of things. Dare I say, he was kind of smart.
The other guy was also nice; he wore glasses and was out-of-shape. But he was nice and he was smiling. He was the intellectual of the group, or at least that's how he looked like. You know, the kind of Balkan intellectual that asks NATO to bomb Serbs because the French Revolution said so. Or something. Hell, I don't know. It's not that he was articulate. Far from it. But he looked smart and that was good enough for them.
So there you have it, the Kosovarës.