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PATRONAZIST AND NEOMALLASTER

2026-07-03 19:28:00, Opinione Luan Rama

Marjana – the neo-Malaysian – (as the MP who left the flock was previously known), who had become known for the flock of lambs she grazed and raised in her native village, in the Dukagjin area, has been given orders that some chosen from the flock of patronage supporters follow and mark her for every action she takes and every word she says.

Thanks to the newest discovered "enemy", the ALGORITHM, patronage comments are spread everywhere.

Most, it is known, are asking her to surrender her mandate as an MP, supposedly with the argument that the party gave it to her, she did not earn it herself.

When the MAYOR put Marjana at the head of the party's closed list, these empty-headed, servile people didn't say a word, even though they secretly left nothing unsaid about her.

They knew that Marjana had no connection, no contribution, and no merit to be first on the party list, but they closed their eyes and mouths.
Because that's what the MAYOR wanted.

They applauded and cheered.
For the PRESIDENT.
And for Marjana.

However, now that the neo-Malanese Marjana has fled from them, what are they not saying, domineeringly and contemptuously, as they are accustomed to.

I knew one of them. Once. A long time ago.
In the last century.

I had forgotten him.
I even knew he was dead.

But he's alive.
Alive and engaged. Patronage.

It was a scam.
A scam.
And without a trace.

Always like that.
A kind of hybrid man.
Humanoid.

An early friend of mine used it.
For everything and everywhere.
He said, not without boasting, that he was my obedient soldier.
And he really obeyed.
He served him.
Blindly.

I felt sorry for him.
I felt sorry for him.
I often told my friend not to use him that way. It was humiliating.
He would tell me that he liked being used. He chose it for himself.

And the truth is that that man was a servant with pleasure.

Thatak and his face is flushed.
That's how I knew him and that's how he stayed.
Tall and with a slightly protruding back.

He just went in and out.
In fact, he went out more than he came in.
Like a shadow.
He was a shadow.
He remained a shadow.

Now it's the shadow that's sewn onto Marjana.
It's inseparable.
Foot by foot and word by word.

Worthy patron.
Bad.

Don't ask me about my name.
Because it has no name.
In fact, it never had a name...