A love letter to Albanian Noses

If somebody asks what usually inspires me (although for the life of me I can’t ever think why they’d be interested), I’d say weather, extended bathroom stays and sexual frustration/satisfaction. And music. I don’t know why some types of music make me act the way they do, but they can be counted on to put me under, make me restless, squeeze my thighs, hit someone, or simply switch on the light inside my head.
It happened again this past Friday, under the sounds of “Nuk kerkoj tjeter njeri” by Elton Deda (roughly translated as “I don’t search for someone else”), a very sweet, melancholy and totally cool song which I had not heard in a while and completely melted me. Now I usually stay away from meltdowns, because they open the door to thinking about being lonely and having no one for Valentine and all that blues, but this time I let myself wallow in the song and have said meltdown. Strangely, right in the middle of it, the music switched its light in my head and I noticed that most of the transfixed audience had their noses perfectly profiled towards the singer, who was in profile looking at the guitar player also in profile. It was serendipity. And it hit me.
Albanian noses are not dainty. For the most part, they have that knife-sharpened straightness with a slightly downward or perfectly perpendicular tip which then slopes further into an usually smaller and curvier philtrum and slightly protruding lips. The rest have a crook, either big or small, but not like an unsightly bump or mound, more like a part of a very sharp rock, that God found and broke further to make it even edgier, and mounted it on faces as angled and as chiseled as marble reefs.
Few Albanians have the upturned or tilted nose, so usual to the rest of Europe, but even then, their outer arch still has that blunt cut quality that brings by myths.
No one can say that Albanian noses simply lie there and complement the rest of the face. Nope. Like everything else about us, they come before the face, herald it, and then proudly and prominently display themselves from all angles. I think that if I concentrate very hard, I can almost see them displayed from the back of the heads as well. We Albanians truly have four-dimensional noses.
Albanian noses are full of character, to the point of inspiring full pages of myth and ethos, remnants of that long ago age when human faces were chiseled by nature and remained that way without interference or guile. They inspire and elicit feelings of awe and love. Albanian noses look like (and usually do) they’d break any fists coming their way. They fit so well in the delicate places of necks, amidst lips and other wondrous places of the human body. Albanian noses are the ones children have to grow into, and adults do not need to identify. For that matter Albanians should not even carry passports. Our noses are sufficient identification.
I do not know why I was overcome with such a feeling of love this past weekend over Albanian noses. But I do know that it is Valentine’s day tomorrow, the day of proclaiming love to the mountaintops and weaving deep and intricate romantic feelings for the object of affection. So I am dedicating this Valentine to Albanian noses, may they lead us to better things, strike love in friendly hearts and fear in enemy hearts. Happy Valentine People!


6 thoughts on “A love letter to Albanian Noses

  1. So I am dedicating this Valentine to Albanian noses, may they lead us to better things, strike love in friendly hearts and fear in enemy hearts.


    Only a blete would write such things. πŸ™‚

    What does one say as a compliment to such writing, noselicious? πŸ˜›

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