Thank you to everyone who joined us for this session!

For this session we read an excerpt from the book “Misinterpretation” by Ledia Xhoga, posted below.

Our prompt was: “Write about the life behind the walls.”

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (“Leave a Reply”), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if you’re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next session Wednesday March 11th at 6pm EDT, with more times listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions.

An excerpt from Misinterpretation by Ledia Xhoga, (pp. 258-259)

Zani turned to his wife. They smiled at each other again. Arranged marriage or not, they seemed in love.
“So many people in New York City,” Lëndina said, noticing the lights turning on outside. “Like ants. Eating and making nests.” But we could only see buildings. It was hard for me to imagine bodies behind the walls, breathing, worrying, laughing, milling about the dinner table, conversing, obsessing. The spectacle inside my own apartment took all my attention. 
I glimpsed at Zani, munching on bread, cheese, and salami, eating them separately, a bite each time, the Albanian way, not the sandwiched American way. A simple man, an open book, nothing to hide. But was he? He hadn’t batted an eye at paying $50,000 to the lawyer. If he had money, he didn’t show it. Zani wasn’t the type to brag about money, I realized. But he did enjoy an aura of mystique and danger about him. Maybe there was no crime at the root of his opacity, only conceit. Despite his rough appearance, I suspected Zani was a bit vain. 
“Way too many people,” he said. “But the most important thing in the world is not to drink alone. To have someone to clink a glass with. Why did God create so many different kinds of people, do you know? To share love, and everything else.” 
“Gëzuar,” said Lëndina. 
“Gëzuar,” I said. 
“To friends. You are no longer alone,” Zani said. “You have us.” A blinding light from a nearby balcony turned on. Our image on the glass died, replaced by that of the gray buildings. 

Credit: Ledia Xhoga