{"id":45993,"date":"2013-02-01T16:00:24","date_gmt":"2013-02-01T21:00:24","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=45993"},"modified":"2013-02-01T08:59:01","modified_gmt":"2013-02-01T13:59:01","slug":"luljeta-lleshanaku-kruja-albania","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/02\/01\/luljeta-lleshanaku-kruja-albania\/","title":{"rendered":"Luljeta Lleshanaku, Kruja, Albania"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><em>A series on what writers from around the world see from their windows.<\/em><\/p>\n<p><center><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/01\/Luljeta_Lleshanaku.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/01\/Luljeta_Lleshanaku.jpg\" alt=\"Luljeta Lleshanaku\" width=\"450\" height=\"650\" class=\"size-full wp-image-45995\" \/><\/a> <\/center><\/p>\n<p>I usually prefer to write in my bedroom at my childhood home in Kruja. Traces of the old living style are in the yard in the front of window: the sheets hung for drying; the terracotta jars, or <em>magrips<\/em>, sixty-year-old objects once used by my grandfather as olive oil containers and now cut at the throat, transformed as flower vases; the ruined walls which once fenced in the tomato garden; the alembic, or <em>lambik<\/em>, which served, in the absence of running water, for washing hands after work. But also present is the invisible, the unseen: the erased objects and the missing human beings; the cut plum tree where my sister and I used to climb up during those beautiful summer mornings; the loud voice of my mother when coming back exhausted from her work; the mulberry tree which brought the insects and the good odor of <em>pegmez<\/em>, the syrup of condensed fruit; the liming thresholds before holidays; my uncles, my cousins, all those portraits and gestures which once populated this yard.<\/p>\n<p>On this inescapable, familiar stage, I can focus on the pelagic depth of a single and bounded situation. In my case creative freedom doesn\u2019t necessarily mean hunting for a new landscape. This environment leads me toward something unmistakable, which is a kind of freedom, too. &mdash;Luljeta Lleshanaku<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>A series on what writers from around the world see from their windows. I usually prefer to write in my bedroom at my childhood home in Kruja. Traces of the old living style are in the yard in the front of window: the sheets hung for drying; the terracotta jars, or magrips, sixty-year-old objects once [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":272,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[5554],"tags":[2274,9911,9910,452,20544],"class_list":["post-45993","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-windows-on-the-world","tag-albania","tag-kruja","tag-luljeta-lleshanaku","tag-matteo-pericoli","tag-windows-on-the-world"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO Premium plugin v25.4 (Yoast SEO v25.4) - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>Luljeta Lleshanaku, Kruja, Albania by Matteo Pericoli<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"February 1, 2013 \u2013 A series on what writers from around the world see from their windows. 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