Yesterday, as I came to work, I learned the news of the great writer Fatos Arapi's life from times of 88 years and 89 times, it depends on the media, but to whom it was interested. As I read the comments on different pages, I did not trust the eyes that some people wrote that they did not know they were alive. I started an inner revolt from what I picked you up and just cry out loud to point out ignorance or where do I know what. However, after I got clear, I thought that people, whether these readers are okay, or even people who have never touched a book by hand in their lives, are not guilty.

They are not guilty because Fatos Arapi was never decorated with presidential estimates, correct me if I'm wrong. Such estimates have been given to thousands of people. Perhaps he refused is not known, so locked inside the house walls for almost a decade due to his health condition, and rightly so. No artist or artist left without embellishment in the chest.

"After the departure of Dritero Agolli, Albanian literature has more and more difficult other painful losses such as Fatos Arap. An important writer, with a dramatic life and dramatic creativity extended to two epochs, Fatos Arapi, a beloved friend and colleague, became an integral part of the Albanian literary calendar of the 20th and 21st centuries, "said Ismail Kadare in a separate communique after the news of the extinction from the life of Arap. And yet, despite the importance, the creativity and the pain he left behind, Fatos Arapi was conveyed without any formal ceremonies worthy of figures like him.

An original voice of Albanian poetry, which spikati in our culture through language and style, was conveyed without fuss, simply in a closed family ceremony.

It is not the fault of people that more than death, they are surprised that the writer was alive until yesterday. So even the way to work, after reading the news of death, I remembered the poem "How I did not want a little more".

I loved beyond death,
So I loved
Again, I can not afford it:
I did not want a little more ...

A little more where the soul smells,
Tell the partition: - Wait, a few ...
To lie to the unlearned merchandise,
Remember to lie a little.

Beyond death, beyond the worlds,
Where does "little else" start -
What I am among the gods:

"How I did not want a bit more ...

Although we would like to have liked a little more, as writer Agron Tufa writes, considering his work "The soul dies not in October", the writer who did not pay any "tax" regime would remain immortal through his work.