Kristiana Shkurti

Kristiana Shkurti

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  • Kristiana Shkurti
    Published 3 months ago
    Those summer nights.

    Those summer nights.

    It was a summer night, I could feel the light breeze, that smelled like the sea, touching me very gently, making me shiver. I sat on the small balcony of my apartment, and I just stared at the moon that was reflecting on the distant surface of the sea. My mind was racing with so many thoughts, and before I knew it, I started going through all the past memories with him. I kept thinking of how he held me. How he used to look at me; as if I was the most precious thing in his world. Memories of us lying in bed, just staring at the sunsets from the big white windows, while jazz played distantly. Remember the times we had? How could you just forget all we had been through? All the pain, the happiness? How could you? I had so many questions, I wanted to scream at him, to curse at him. The sound of the waves crashing on the rocks was utterly relaxing at the moment. I could feel salty tears running from my eyes, I could feel the burning sensation in my throat, I could feel the sadness settling inside my soul. How can love destroy you? I don’t even know if it was love what I had with him. I wanted to call him and tell him to come back to me and just go back to those times…those times where we were young and reckless, we didn’t know anything about life and we just wanted to have fun. I wanted to repeat the past so badly, I wanted it to come back in life, make me relive those moments with the same strong emotions. My vision of the perfectly round and bright moon had blurred from my tears. I went inside and changed the song to Pink Floyd’s Hey you. He disliked Pink Floyd and I loved them. Probably that was a sign that we were completely different. One week after he said the hurtful things to me, I expected him to come back to me and tell me that he was sorry. But he never did. He deleted his memories with me and moved on with his life, being happy, while I was left broken. When the break-up occurred we were sitting somewhere peaceful, he didn’t even look at me once. He was staring at the candle on our table and he didn’t even touch me or hug me. He said ‘’It’s over’’ in the most insensitive tone I had even heard and I picked up my purse and left as quickly as I could. I wanted to disappear and I let out all the tears and broke down. I was trying my best to not cry in front of him but some tears ran down my cheeks. I kept thinking of Hemingway’s quote ‘’A human was not made for defeat. A human can be destroyed but not defeated.’’ And I was destroyed. I slowly got up and headed inside. I stopped the record and put on some classical music, I poured myself a glass of wine and pulled out my notebook. I started writing. I started writing about memories, landscapes, the beautiful and peaceful beaches in the small Greek islands. I wrote because I wanted to keep my mind off my sadness. I wrote because it made me feel alive. I wrote until my hand hurt; however, I didn’t stop. The night was my companion and my enemy. I would feel the most creative and the most depressed during the nights. The little wooden French doors of the balcony were still open and the curtains were moving silently and rhythmically from the breeze. I sat there and I observed. I observed the stars, the moon, the sea. I loved the silence, it was only me and I could hear my thoughts.
  • Kristiana Shkurti
    Published 6 months ago
    Just a writer.

    Just a writer.

    It all began when my mother brought me my first book ‘’The Adventures of Tom Sawyer’’ when I was 8-9 years old. As I had just learned how to read and becoming accustomed to it, my mother thought that it would help me to not only be better at reading but also to broaden my horizons and engross the brilliant world of literature. As mentioned previously my first book was ‘’The Adventures of Tom Sawyer’’ I still remember how excited my mother was to bring me that book as she was as well a great fan of literature, me being the ordinary young child I started acting unreasonably and getting upset that my mother would make me read my homework again; but when I first took the book in my hands and ran my fingers through the old pages of it, I started getting excited and happy. The story began and my mind and soul was completely focused on Tom Sawyer’s adventures. I managed to finish the book in 2 days since I was so engaged in the plot and when I did finish I was fascinated by so many things. First of all, by my ability to just recreate what I was reading and imagine it, I felt like I was directing my own little movie. Secondly, how attached I had grown to the main character, as when the book finished I got sad and didn’t want to say goodbye to his adventures and his personality that was full of braveness and mischief. Finally, the way that I got jealous of Mark Twain and wondered how he succeeded in writing such a great book that motivated me to start writing. The same evening I took out my little pink notebook, and i started writing short childish stories. I would go around and have this proud smile and tell people ``I am a writer``. Time passed rather quickly, and i found myself nostalgic of how reckless, proud and clueless i was. I started drifting away from writing, I started having this ideas that I was bad at it. Time passed. Until that summer evening... I was walking around in the town of Mykonos without paying attention on where i was going when i came across a small church, in front of it it had a small garden and you could see the whole town and even the old harbor of Mykonos. The view was breathtaking. The majestic orange warm sun positioned in the middle of the sky that was clear from clouds. The sea was calm, you could hear the distant sounds of the waves. The sun was reflecting on the refreshing salty surface,as it started going down as if it wanted to dive in the sea, the sky's orange from the sun started fading and a dark blue started appearing. Before you know it the sun has dissipated and in seconds it was replaced by the full bright moon along with his fellow yellow stars. I could feel the reviving air blow slightly to my face. The sea remained still, i was full of ideas and creativity and I knew then and there that I had to start writing again.