A City for No One

 

I walk around the streets of this city, as I have always done, chasing something different, something beautiful. The people and the buildings are the entities that I usually find mostly interesting. The people, because they represent life, and a city without life is just an eerie sight to see (we all have experienced that during the recent forced closures); and the buildings, because they are the history and the style of the times. Unfortunately, lately, I am having serious trouble in satisfying these interests of mine.

I rarely see any happy faces these days. I look for them, but I can’t really find any. Maybe one, occasionally, which is just a drop in the ocean of gloomy and depressed profiles that floods the city's streets. Of course, there are many reasons behind this fact, like for example: the mysterious sickness representing death, the economic depression knocking at the door, the sick political theatre being played every day, the lack of emergency lanes, the unexpected energy crisis, still keeping a nonsense curfew after 11 o’clock, the lack of possibility to live a decent life in a country blessed by God, increasing poverty, mafia wars, surging corruption, and the list grows on and on. All these facts have their toll on the life of inhabitants. However, the main reason in my opinion, behind these depressive faces is - living in a city with no identity, and no living standards.

Every single building which represents the history of this city is being torn down, systematically; instead, endless dubious towers are raising with lighting speed. They are the steel and cement
giants with no eyes, which cast a suffocating shadow on everything and everyone. A brand-new skyline which didn’t really exist 5 years ago, now imprisons the city center, depriving people from the sunlight, and the beautiful view of Dajti mountain. It is impossibly difficult to find history here now. According to style, well, I don’t think one can find style in a city where its old national theater building was torn down only to build more nondescript towers instead.

This is a city where as soon as you wake up and step out of the house, you are in permanent conflict with everyone, and everything, because nothing functions as it should, and no one is responsible for anything. The urban environment is conceptualized in a way that is naturally hostile to the people. It resembles to a type of purposely messed up minefield, where you have to struggle not to start a fight with someone for the dumbest reasons; like, walking in the middle of the street instead of the sidewalk, even though there is no sidewalk.

On the other hand, it is unreal to see how people struggle each day to live a life that does not differ much from that of cattle. A harsh comparison but that’s what it is when there is shortage of drinking water, lack of electricity, absence of trees and green spaces, lack of playgrounds where kids can have a childhood, lack of emergency lanes, scarcity of sidewalks, lack of dedication, inadequate leadership, as well as lack of air to breathe. There is just one thing this city does not lack - bicycle lanes. Those bicycle lanes are fucking great, and that’s something to be proud of, I guess.

Recently, in an attempt to make things better or worse, some really strange façade art “adorned” many of the crucial spots around the city. I have been in other cities of the world and I have seen murals and public artworks of all the sorts, but nothing like this. Even though I try I cannot understand their connection with the urban context and their effect is nothing more than depressively puzzling. I wonder why should we always import any form of trash from the outside and expose it as worthy or beautiful, when instead it is just annoying or sinister?

It seems like the city’s citizens are doomed to live a life of déjà vus, a vicious circle; where nothing really changes substantially, but where visually everything becomes new by some higher verdict that no one approves nor comprehends. All connections with past ways of life and histories are cut. A big mind reset, a big lie, a restless oblivion, this is what the new generation gets. Nothing worthy, nothing substantial to live for. No identity to call their own, no character to define Tirana as itself.

It saddens me to see the wistful faces of the people. They walk around like zombies, jailed in a space with no trees, no culture, and no hope in sight. Surrounded by new guarding towers, and mesmerized by molesting “art pieces”. Their life violated each day and more, their mind fed with fresh trash culture, their souls sold for a few pieces of silver.