Comrade Zylo smiled.
– Culture and museums are inseparable. Here, Demkë works in your department, but is also closely connected to my department too! – said comrade Zylo.
In the meantime comrade Q walked in. He was holding the report in his hands.
– What’s the matter with you, why are you arguing? – he asked.
Comrade Shemshedin looked at Zylo, but said nothing. Comrade Q., without looking at comrade Shemshedin, gave the report to comrade Zylo.
– Here, read it! Add something you think is reasonable and get ready to speak! The meeting will be very important. You understand what very important means! – said comrade Q.
Comrade Zylo took the report and sat on the chair, triumphantly gazing at comrade Shemshedin.
– Comrade Q. – said comrade Shemshedin.
– Speak! – said comrade Q.
– What about me presenting the report! – said he.
Comrade Q. looked at him and smiled.
– Zylo will present the report. His voice is better than yours. He reads nicer, calmer. You get excited – said comrade Q.
– But, I tired myself with… – said comrade Shemshedin.
– We thank you for your work. Both you and Demkë helped to compile the report well and accurate. All the things I told you about you’ve put in the report… in the end, several friends work on a report, but only one presents it… – said comrade Q.
Then comrade Q. took my hand and we exited the office. He stopped in the corridor and told me:
– I’m thinking about an address in the name of the high representative office. A short review of eight to nine pages. But, I’m very busy. Here, I’m off to a meeting right now. Please, sit down one afternoon and prepare me the document! The topic is about the preparation of theatre director’s framework. In a word, what we do to prepare new theatre cadres. I want the document to be clear and at a high theory level. We are not allowed to speak at a low cultural level. It’s a serious meeting! Try, Demkë, try! – comrade Q. tapped me energetically on the shoulder.
– When do you want the document ready? – I asked.
He returned to his office, and I stayed in the corridor. I felt tired. Tonight I will write again in the dining room and my wife knitting, will desperately look at me. She’ll speak about the beautiful articles of Adem Adashi.