Regjistruar: 23/06/2004
Vendbanimi: on the palm of God's hand
Mesazhe: 200

just one thing to you----- i never understood why in every sentence of yours you mentioned your father so much , till i got the feeling that the bonding you have (when you understand each-other without saying a thing) must be and is very special.
everybody finds one like that now that i am thinking abut it.
it is called strength, a bonding like that is something you are blessed .
i am blessed too.:p and i love it. i am loving every single thing about it.
rrenja formon dege te tilla per te krijuar other strong bondings.
e viva !:p

__________________
Fear less,hope more/eat less,chew more/whine less,breathe more/talk less,say more/love more and all good things will be yours:p(swedish proverb)

Denonco kėtė mesazh tek moderatorėt | IP: e regjistruar

Regjistruar: 23/06/2004
Vendbanimi: on the palm of God's hand
Mesazhe: 200

( this is crazy enough per kete teme)

Djalli qenkerka me komplekse.
per aq sa mu duk e cuditshme si ide mu duk edhe e vertete.(deri diku te pakten)
Ne bote nuk ka njerez te "mire" dhe te "keqinj" por njerez me komplekse , qe dozat e dryshme te kompleksitetit shtojne ose pakesojne dozat e malignitetit. :p(kjo ne porporcion te drejte).Cdo njeri eshte kompleks pa perjashtim (ndoshta atyre perfekte qe e kane vendin ne muzeume ) the lack of complexity or the lessening of it brings happiness.
Kush nuk eshte i lumtur perbrenda domosdo kerkon fatkeqesi ,ndjen xhelozi dhe cmire per lumturine e tjetrit perbri.
Si lindin kriminelet, cold blooded killers, psikopatet ?
Varet nga fizionomia?
I pazgjithshmi raport nature-nurture ?
S'ka rendesi sesi.
Rendesi ka qe kriminelet nuk duan te analizohen.Djalli ka frike nga psikoanaliza, nga zeri i ndergjegjes , i llogjikes, ndaj kthehet ne moskokecares.
e viva la simplicita !

p.s. it is taken generally--it is not .

__________________
Fear less,hope more/eat less,chew more/whine less,breathe more/talk less,say more/love more and all good things will be yours:p(swedish proverb)

Denonco kėtė mesazh tek moderatorėt | IP: e regjistruar

Regjistruar: 23/06/2004
Vendbanimi: on the palm of God's hand
Mesazhe: 200

When i called her and talked to her she surprised me .
-When am i reading your poetries ?-she asked
I wasn't believing what i was listening.My mom wanted to read my writings.The very person that 2-3 years ago used to tell me that i'd better study and not write insinuating in this way (indirectly) that writing was a waste of time.
Well of course everyday i would write my inspirations down then study.(even though in a way she was right)
And then my surprise grew when she asked me for the 2nd time if i had the possibility to publish them here.
And me ,full of enthusiasm told her that yes, i would prepare all my manuscripts and send them to her.
After the call i thought it over again. I couldn't give them to her.My stories would upset her and upseting her was the last thing i wanted to do .
Even now i can imagine her possible reaction after reading the stories .She would say:
-Too pesimsitic Lori,very sad.
I remembered when i had read her just by chance two of my poetries and she had had the same reaction. But then i also remembered that she had praised my abstract way of writing after i had commented all the underlying meanings and symbolisms. She tried to understand ,to be part of my helter-skelter world.Now that i am thinking of it ,she did a whole lot.(and does )
But how could i have the heart to give those writings to her? Almost all of them were pessimistic ,characters that ended dead ,lonely ,sad and full of pain.At the time i loved the writers of the Lost Generation: Kafka, Remarque, Kamy ,Heminguej.
My first novel (5 years ago)ended with the death of the two main characters.After being separated for 7 years and then by chance they meet in a hospital room she dies from cancer and he from grief suicides himself.
My goodness ,what was i thinking then?
I was so playig with the characters ,without having any respect at all ,using them as toys of absurdity and chance.No wonder i called it :Lodra Fati. How could i have been such an irresponsible writer?? When you write a character ,he grows in you ,the traits ,the personality. How could i make them dead with a snap of a finger?Writting is a serious process.Now i realize i had taken the role of "god".Imagine if God whom i have started to have faith in suddenly wants to be irresponsible toward his creation,his artwork ,his world,what would happen?
How about the second novel?
The painter paints his own death before dying of overdose.And he goes away full with sadness and regretts for the life he has lead.
And what about the tragedy :Eliza ?
A very innocent childlike girl that before ending up in the streets of Greece.. ,dies .(and that for me was the deffinition of a happy ending since i prefered death to that kind of life)
What was i feeling then?Writing this dreamlike scenarios with people eating hearts,bodies being broken into pieces and characters in search of some "glue".Esi rebelling agaisnt S.Ego inspired (of course )by Freud. Abstract and impressionist panoramas described, characters trapped in dedalus ,ice ,mockery and pain.
Blind people falling in love during the 97 crisis,dictatorships paralyzing in voids.
And remembering all this i was not proud at all about myself .I refused then and now to let anyone read those writings.I just don't like them .They hardly have any funny light-hearted conversation in.They don't make me laugh.I just keep them to see where have i been and where am i going..
What kind of freaking message did i want to transmit to people who read them ? (esp my friends)--that life is full of pain and darkness (not a single truth in it)That humans are so small and worthless compared to a bug or ant (kafka's paralelism too) What?
And then there came a time when i wrote just pieces ,short stories of 2-5 pages,fragments that showed mixed feelings of sadness and hope ,of melancholy and romanticism , some jokes around , some sunrays caressing the face,bittersweet statements,breathing and searching for wings, fullfilling the soul .But i could still feel the existencialist textures,being the nomade,the wanderer, roaming for answers,the torning appart between two worlds PAIN and HAPPINESS. (because there are poeple that hate their pain and still cannot do without it ,they think that pain is all what they are and love it just the same)
At that time my characters still continued to die(not all of them) but there was hope lingering , there was more love and passion , i wrote with colors and flavor,some heat and zest,red fire mixed up with black flames.
Poetries were of births and love , of breaking chains free,
I made of myself from a clock (rera ne qelq... )to wings...
And just some days ago i was complaining to the fishface that i just had run out of ideas for writing. And even though i didn't tell him that i was scared about this huuuge writers' block that had struck me he seemed to have understood me very well.
We always make jokes with each-other telling that we -february people get along very well .And it's true.I read him like an opened book.
"Cough september cough" ----- (a joke 4 M that always "compalins" about february people.
He told me nowadays it is very difficult to be unique .There are many people out there that want to do the same.
-Yes but how do you get to be unique in all this crazyness?
-Frankly,i don't really know-he said starting to eat his steak and corns when we were sitting at CLUB 99.-it's like the ants. Even the ants have identity ...
-...unless we wouldn't know that there existed ants ,worker ants ,ants that rule -i laughed when i finished his thought.
-Because everything has been repeated so many times ,you have to come up with something new ,something that is unique ,that is so you.
-You are basically saying that i should look deeper into myself for shattering the block?- i said then i stuffed a fajita in my mouth ,tasting it slowly.
-Yes write about your life .the variety of characters that i have known since i entered your life,put some of your imagination in it .
-Seems so easy when you say it .You know ido put imagination in it but it is just that all i have written in my notebooks recently are pieces here and there without connection .
-You should read Harry Potter-he said convincingly.
-Oh please ,you know i just can't read Harry Potter .
-Well the woman is a genius ,she has put together real life with fantasy. Don't start from the first book ,start from the third.You have seen the first two movies right ?
-Excuse me! I fell asleep in the first one ,are you kidding me ?- I laughed-It's like a tale. i would never sit down and read Harry Potter .I just can't .
-Well trust me ,You'll love it .
-Since when have i trusted you on movies?-i teased him-You consider Spiderman I like the romance of the year .
-Hey ,that's what guys like.-he said and laughing started on his food again.I luaghed too.
Only then i realized why i had this block .
My whole world had turned upside down.(good sense)
I had changed a lot ,my world view also .
I laughed more, joked more, didn't feel pain at all , had surpassed the challenge of opening boxes and throwing some away, helped people e lot with all my heart cos my heart finally had melted, was so warm ,so soothing,so loving.I had just returned into a very sweet person.There was no bitterness in my words,no angriness, no sarkazm:simply happy. And it had taken me a while to become ,a lot of patience and work.I remember e saying:no man grows wise without he has his share of winters(from the ancient brittish writing -the wanderer).And i think it suits perfectly to happiness too.
I hope this period is just a transitory one for my writings ,i hope i will get over the block but one thing i am sure about it,is this VOW -(similar to the one i did for not reading anymore lost generation writers) -I promise that in the future i will never ever make a character die unless i have a very strong reason or powerful motive that will oblige me to do so.
END

__________________
Fear less,hope more/eat less,chew more/whine less,breathe more/talk less,say more/love more and all good things will be yours:p(swedish proverb)

Modifikuar nga BluE_icE datė 04/08/2004 ora 09:13

Denonco kėtė mesazh tek moderatorėt | IP: e regjistruar

Regjistruar: 23/06/2004
Vendbanimi: on the palm of God's hand
Mesazhe: 200

ashtu sic perseritet koha.
N. u pickua nga nje grereze, ra nga pema dhe vdiq.Thane qe fajin e kishte absurdi qe vinte andej nga s'e priste askush ,dikush mallkoi Zotin qe s'i ruante krijesat e tij, i treti besonte tek reincarancioni pagan,

pastaj u perserit edhe historia e tij dhe te saj. Ai duke lexuar gazeten ,sidomos faqen e politikes mengjeseve ,ajo duke ngritur keshtjella te pakuptimta rere qe rrezohehsin sa i prekje me gisht.
-E dashur te mungon strategjia ,-kish thene dikur ai gjithe sarkazem teksa lexonte per strategjite ushtarake ne gazete.Ajo e dinte se c'mungonte ,ishte bazamenti ,ishte materiali. E nderkohe e dinte c'i mungonte atij ,ishte ndjenja .

koha u perserit kur ra telefoni dhe gjemime te forta u degjuan ne qiell. rete u plasariten. ata te tre ngecen ne ashensor .Kush kishte thene qe kishte tmerr prej ashensoreve? Nje phobi e cuditshme ,nje phobi e gjalle. Ah po, ekzistencialisti ,i dukej sikur po i merrej fryma ,besimtari qe "quhej "besimtar i lutej zotit pas mallkimit .Te bukur besim kishte dhe ai! Pagani nderkohe ishte i lumtur ,mezi priste te kthehej ne shpend.

u perserit tufani i shpirtit, u perserit migrena qe erresonte syte ,dhe u perserit pickimi ne zemer qe lindi inat dhe prej inatit u formua nje keshtjelle prej betoni te forte .
-C'hynte strategjia ketu?
Kete rradhe keshtjella iu shemb me qellim qe te mesonte mesimin qe keshtjellat nuk ndertohen me inat ,por me dashuri;jo me vrer, por me leng molle.
koha ngeci pastaj ,ashtu sic ngeci sahati ne piacen ku ndesheshin vite me pare meksikanet me ne krye Panco Villen kunder ameriakneve.Nje plumb ndaloi oren ,a split of time. Por nuk zgjati shume gjithsesi ..se koha erdhi e u perserit . Nje rreth i keq ,qe perfundonte ne nje rrjete merimange.
dhe aty ne fund te rrjetes pa ate qe nuk duhet te kishte pare.... mund ti kishte mesuar te vertetat ne nje menyre me te lehte ,pse merimanga???
Dhe prej fundit u ngjit
koha u perserit ,koha beri te sajen perderisa njerzit mesoheshin me stagnation por cdo dite kishte dicka te re, cdo dite rritej nje filiz, celte nje syth ,hapej nje zambak ,lindte nje flutur.
Kur hapi syte ,pa nje kopesht te gjelberuar.
Koha perseritej..... me ndryshimet e saj aq te medha sa p ote ktheje koken mprapa nuk ishte e njejta ...kish ndryshuar.
Ku ishte perseritja atehere??

__________________
Fear less,hope more/eat less,chew more/whine less,breathe more/talk less,say more/love more and all good things will be yours:p(swedish proverb)

Denonco kėtė mesazh tek moderatorėt | IP: e regjistruar

Regjistruar: 23/06/2004
Vendbanimi: on the palm of God's hand
Mesazhe: 200

pff kishin harruar nihilistin....Kur N. -ja vdiq nihilisti u prek aq sa mund te preket kur lexon nje peozi te tille te Stephen Crane :
I saw a man persuing the horizon
Round and round they spread
I was disturbed at this
I accosted the man
"It is futile " i said
"You can never.."
"You lie" -he cried
And ran on.
Pra u prek fare pak sepse nje poezi e tille i eshte kushtuar pikerisht nihilisteve .Te qenit ne nje kuti , nuk i lejon te shohin veten , imagjino te tjeret ,imagjino te vdekurit.
Nuk jane te prekur nga ngjarjet qe ndodhin jashte qenies se tyre sepse mohojne qenien e tyre,madje ekzistencen e tyre dhe si rrjedhoje cdo gje qe ndodh nuk po ndodh , cdo gje qe ndodh eshte surreale.
Kur ngeci ne ashensor bashke me te tjeret , per te ishte sikur po shikonte enderr,krejt indiferent dhe pa ndjenja.
Sigurisht me vone nihilisti do kthehej ne skizofren me endrrat hde largimin prej botes reale ,ku cdo gje i dukje halucinacion.
Depresion?
Ndoshta !
E pastaj sigurisht rri si budallai dhe pret Godone .....(Becket ishte nihilist)
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naturalisti c'beri?
U frikesua ,patjeter qe po.Por nuk priti ndihme prej kujt .Thjesht u perpoq qe te dinte shkakun dhe me pas te bente dicka per te ,ne fund te fundit gjithcka varej ne dore te tij ,ne dore te njeriut . S'kishte zot ,as shpirt ,as jete pas vdekjes. Kishte vetem njerez-robote ,te lire qe i jepnin vlerat vet njeriut,e ngrinin vet veten ne piedestal. E pikerisht kjo ishte dobesia e tyre me e madhe. A mund nje qenie e hedhur ne jete prej rastesise (sic mendonin) te ishte me vlera? Po sikur shansi apo natyra a gjerave te kishin krijuar "ndjenjen " e te qenit te lire por qe s'ishin ,"ndjenjen" e te qenit te pavarur dhe me vlere ,por s'ishin. Kush do t'ua vertetonte kete gje? Kush i jashtem ,c'qenie tjeter?....Zoti??? Zot s'kishte per ta.
Ata ishin mbyllur ne ashensor , s'kish njeri jashte.Naturalisti mendonte se do dilte gjalle prej andej ,mendonte se gjithcka e kishte ne dore ai vet ,dhe nqs humbte ishte sepse ai s'beri nje pune te mire ,s'ish "programuar" mire mekanikisht.
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ekzistencialisti i dyte ?
(ai i revoltes kunder absurdit dhe jo i nenshtruari ) Ate e shihje ne veprim teksa ngrinte krye kunder absurdit por edhe pse mund ta ngaterroje per nautralist s'ishte gje tjeter vecse nje gjendje pertej nihilizmit .Kishte pothuajse te njejtat karakteristika me nihilizmin por nuk mohonte :Vleren dhe rendesine e vetes/siguria qe ekzistonte ,qe kishte bote dhe mendime dhe koshience, ku bota materiale s'ekziston ,ku gjithcka bazohet ne boten subjektive. Sigurisht kamy dhe sartri ,e bene punen e tyre BINDESE dhe domosdo TERHEQESE perderisa shume terhiqen sikur te ishte ne mode thenia: jam ekzistencialist. Kamy-ja me Murtajen e tij te famshme qe shprehte idete ekzistencialiste pa teklif ,ku qyteti i vogel i mbyllur Oran qe ra murtaja mund shume mire te personifikoje ashensorin tim te mbyllur. Por kish harruar te fuste atje tipe te tjere njerezish. Sartri me neverine e tij sikur jeta te paskesh qene kaq e peshtire ,my goodness!
----------------------
budisti te bente per te qeshur,nje te qeshur gjithe sarkazem. Rrinte kembekryq ne qoshe te ashensorit dhe meditonte me sy mbyllur. Nuk shqetesohej se mund te vdiste aty brenda.
Atman eshte esenca e shpirtit te cdo personi
Brahman -esenca e shpirtit te gjithe kozmosit,zoti.
dhe cdo person eshte Zoti pra cdo person eshte Brahman,i gjithe pushtetshem.
Per te arritur Brahman duhet te meditosh ne formen e nje qetesie shpirerore ,paqeje duke mermeritur fjalen :Om- qe sipas tyre do te thote perfeksion dhe realitet i fjales se pavdekshme .BOOH !
E nqs perendimoret thonin: ha se do vdesesh pa ngrene - lindoret thonin: e cfare pastaj? Atman eshte Brahman .Brahman eshte i perjetshem.Eshte nje vdekje per tu deshiruar.-Ne fund te fudnit do rilindnin ne nje qenie tjeter me vone.
----------------------
atje ishte dhe- the devoted christian. I cili nuk kishte nje besim sa per sy e faqe ,nje kryq ne qafe, nje rrefim tek prifti nje formule lutjeje duke filluar :Ati yne qe je ne qiell ,u shenjterofte shpirti yt blah blah blah....Nuk e fuste zotin ne nje kuti.
ora10?--- shpejt ne kishe te ndezim nje qiri .
Perkundrazi fliste prej zemres dhe lutej prej zemres.Ndizte qirinj ne zemren e tij, behej i duruar sic ishte krijuesi , behej i dashur ashtu sic kish marre dashuri me pare. Fuqia nuk i shteronte kurre ,jepte agape love ,te pakthyeshme sepse po ne te njejten kohe merrte prej krijuesit qe kish bere birin e tij te vdiste ,ate te vetmin.(imagjino nje baba sikur te lere djalin e tij te vetem qe ka ,te vdes ,te rrahin dhe ta torturojne ,te ndjeje kaq shume dhimbje brenda vetem e vetem qe te te bej ty te kuptosh,te te jap nje mesim qe arroganca jote nuk eshte mire, dhuna po ashtu, kryenecesia dhe dyshimet)
Kush baba mund ta beje kete gje? Shumica e njerezve lodhen duke te te thene qe s'e ke mire sic po vepron, te tjere shajne , u humbet durimi, behen agresive dhe nqs nuk i degjon arrijne edhe te te vrasin,jo vetem shpirterisht ,por fizikisht.(te semuret)
Kristiani kish mesuar perulesine ashtu sic ishte perulur Jezusi ne gjyqin e tij.
E kur ajo qe u quajt " nje gjeme e absurdit" , "nje katastrofe" , "nenqeshje fati" ,ajo qe i beri njerezit te ndiheshin si kukulla apo mekanizma te drejtoheshin prej rastesise s'sihte gje tjeter per besimtarin sesa nje situate e keqe ne te cilen u ndodh dhe qe besimi i tij po testohej.Nqs ai do ishte shqetesuar pse ashensori kishte ngecur ,besimi i tij ishte i lekundshem ,nqs jo atehere kjo do te thoshte qe ai e dinte fort mire qe Zoti i tij e donte dhe qe ai do bente cmos qe ta nxirrte prej atij ashensori.He has the luck to know that his God is a good God that LOVES his creation.
Pra gjithcka fshihej tek besimi ,c'hynin kukullat ? Ai ia dinte vlerat vetes, e dinte qe ishte i rendesishem ne syte e krijuesit te tij.
Kaq mjaftonte ,dashuri dhe besim dhe shprese-- c'hynin pyetjet e kota nihiliste qe vinte ne dyshim ekzistencen e tij,apo ato ekzistencialiste qe gjithmone perpiqeshin te kapeshin pas nje gjeje,te beheshin gjeni mbi dicka qe ta benin te ndihej "me vlera",te testonte keshtu rendesine e qenies se tij kur ai ishte i rendesishem since in the mother's womb.
C'hynin Omm-et ,meditimet per te arritur qetesine kur qetesia arrihej duke patur besim se dikush qe te do ka ne dore shume gjera dhe ai do bej cmos qe ti te jesh i lumtur ,me nje kusht ama ---nqs ke vertet besim tek ai.
Se dicka e ksih mesuar :Zoti kishte personalitetin e tij dhe nje nder karakteristikat e temparamentit te tij ishte se ai ishte xheloz.Nqs nuk ve ate perpara cdo gjeje sepse ne fund te te fundit eshte krijuesi yt atehere nuk kishe besim tek ai dhe nqs jo nuk do shqetesohej shume ne ti ndiheshe i lumtur apo jo.
Gjithcka fillon nga ty ,nqs do ta kerkosh ti ate.
Dhe besimtari e kish kerkuar dhe kush kerkon ,gjen .
Ne ashensor reagimi i besmitarit ishte te lutej ne heshtje me shpresen qe gjerat do behehsin me mire.
Dhe si u bene gjerat ?
pas 14 oresh te ngecur ne ashensor :
ekzistencialisti qeshi se i kish shpetuar absurdit
naturalisti ish inatosur ne fillim sepse s'kish ditur te gjeje rrugen vete dhe te dilte me shpejte por jo te priste me ore te tera dhe te humbte nje takim te rendesishem.por i ishin ulur nervat ne fund.
nihilisti s'kish ndjere gje.The most pitied guy i may say that is like trapped and doesn't do nothing not even try to proof his existence.
budisti kish vazhduar natyrshem me Omet e tij duke falenderuar Brahman.
Besimtari kish dale self realized that prooved to God he had faith in him.

__________________
Fear less,hope more/eat less,chew more/whine less,breathe more/talk less,say more/love more and all good things will be yours:p(swedish proverb)

Modifikuar nga BluE_icE datė 16/09/2004 ora 02:19

Denonco kėtė mesazh tek moderatorėt | IP: e regjistruar

Regjistruar: 23/07/2003
Vendbanimi: in you
Mesazhe: 3137

-I should be going.
He raised his eyebrows in a questioning expression and wished she hadn't said the words.Please stay,you don't know how much i want you to stay.-he thought
She looked at him intently ,obviously waiting for something.
-I am going...
SILENCE...
He thought she looked too determined to be stopped.
She gave him another look and got up from bed.
Hesitating she turned toward him:
-Do you want me to go...?
He raised his eyebrows ,again ,this time surprised that she had given him the choice.
SILENCE...
Looking into her deep green eyes he was thinking of revenge:
-Yes....SILENCE....If you want to....
She cocked her head on the left weighting the words she had least expected. It was a double cut...it was hurt.
She gave a look of pity ,her heart dissolving into pieces.Why darling ,you don't let your yes be yes and your no be no ?-she thought reminding herself of the same thing...
Then she walked out of the room ,never turning her head back,leaving him behind stupefied by her reaction,alone in the middle of a big chaotic bed...

__________________
Philippians 4:8-Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things.

Modifikuar nga lorie datė 29/12/2004 ora 07:34

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Regjistruar: 10/01/2003
Vendbanimi: .
Mesazhe: 5233

jam cmenderisht e lumtur. e lumtur per cdo sekonde te jetes sime e lumtur qe kam miq qe me bejne te lumtur, e lumtur sepse asgje nuk shkon dem dhe qenia vetvetja ka cmim te larte por ka gjithashtu shperblime te pacmuara. nje perqafim te gjitheve juve. ky vit ka per te qene i mbare, e ndiej plot cmenduri po cmenduri te kendshme

__________________
It takes just as much courage to express your love when it's right, as it does to walk away when it's wrong.

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Regjistruar: 10/06/2004
Vendbanimi: aty ku nuk mungon rakia
Mesazhe: 482

ka dit qe nje ide me ka hipur ne koke edhe rehat spo le
ka dit qe sa vjen edhe goditja e kesaj ideje sa vjen behet me e forte,ne fillim me sa me kruajti pak koken po tani po me godet me cekan kjo ide
kethehu me thot kethehu ne atdhe kethehu atje ne devoll,edhe sot prap kjo ide , por mer permasa te medha nuk mundem ta mposht jo nuk po mundem....

__________________
Ndizmė, vėlla njė shkrepse nen qiellin e zi,nje shkrepese te brishte shprese,ne erresiren me shi..

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Regjistruar: 23/07/2003
Vendbanimi: in you
Mesazhe: 3137

Na ishte njehere nje tulipan....:p
qe bente duel me nje trendafil te eger
tulipani u gjakos prej thumbave te lules
mori cpime te mprehta ne zemer

Toka e riperteriti me dashuri
tulipanet e tjere nje i kuq dhe nje i bardhe...
i hapen petalet nji nga nji
e ujiten , e celen ,e kthyen gjalle

dhe tuliapani zemer hapur erdhi
iu afrua trendafilit te eger
e ledhatoi,embel e perkundi
aq sa trendafili u kthye ne tjeter

c'gje me t'mire mund t'perdorte nje tulipan
pervec te ofronte zemren e madhe
me dashuri dhe shpresen qe ne shpirt mban
t'fitonte zemren e trendafilit,te dilte fitimtare.

mireserdhe Jonushka

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Philippians 4:8-Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things.

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Regjistruar: 10/01/2003
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lulet nuk bejne lufte me njera tjetren

mirese ju gjeta

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It takes just as much courage to express your love when it's right, as it does to walk away when it's wrong.

Denonco kėtė mesazh tek moderatorėt | IP: e regjistruar