18th of March 2025
6P5R+X22, Medina, Prizren 20000
Kino Lumbardhi
I hear there are residents from Slovenia and Croatia coming to meet me today. Their names have been mentioned in the office, and a few online meetings have already taken place. Some of their voices have already traveled through my space. If I remember correctly, it’s Maja, Francisco, Antonela, and Una. I’m open to meeting them, but at the same time, I wonder—what can I offer them? As many say, and as I listen, summer is the liveliest time in Prizren. Everything feels easier when the days are long and warm. But during the colder months, things get more complicated for me. My insides grow cold-I can’t help it anymore. And don’t even try going to the basement-others have settled there. I also feel every crack in my body more acutely. But I am 73, and I see these cracks as a part of me. The people who work inside me care for them, nurture them, even hide them when needed. They make it all work, even though sometimes, I’d rather just take a day off. But maybe these four artists will find my complications interesting. In my experience, artists often find weird stuff interesting.
I immerse myself in these thoughts in the early morning of March 18th. As I wait for the day to begin, for workers and visitors to warm my insides, I listen carefully to the world outside. Sometimes, it feels like it’s just me and Bistrica in the morning. Her persistent rhythm of skipping stones, carving her own space, rising and falling, stubbornly holding onto her role as one of Prizren’s landmarks. I feel connected to her, we really share common ground. She inspires me, but when she becomes too loud, I turn inward. We live in a nice neighborly symbiosis.
Tuesday day slowly comes to life: first, keys unlock my garden, then my front door. Lights flicker on, the heating hums, and soon, my space is filled with footsteps, conversations, cigarettes and coffee, the hum of computers, transformations, worries, working hours. These things make me alive, make me whole, make me a cultural landmark of Prizren, even when it’s not summer. Just like Bistrica, I am here all the time.
And there they are, the residents! But only three of them. I see them approaching from the Stone Bridge and instantly start worrying about my ugly façade. I hope their eyes are drawn to Bistrica instead. Still, I can offer some things on this ugly façade. Did they notice the empty black boxes? I wish they were being used. Did they see the graffiti? I let people leave their marks, transforming me into a space of dialogue. Isn’t that more meaningful than being frozen in an image of external beauty? Oh, and did they notice the new sidewalk in front of me?
The residents are warmly welcomed into my garden and taken on a tour inside. I enjoy these tours; I always observe visitors’ reactions as they hear my stories. I wonder if that is egoistic? 1952, volunteers, imperfection, demolition, resistance, interruptions, transformations, privatization, people, industrialization, education, autonomy, reconstruction. These are all parts of my existence, often invisible to outsiders but deeply known and felt by those who work within me. The workers have been an integral part of me from the very beginning, that’s why I love listening to their stories.
I hear reconstruction being mentioned again, this time in conversation with the residents. And the phrase “waiting phase” comes up. I suppose I am in a waiting phase now. I often wonder how to wait when no one inside me is actually waiting. They are working harder than ever to bring me out of this state and into the reconstruction phase. I’ve seen the project plans: I will look similar but better. No more cracks, no more complications. They promise to preserve my essence, to keep me from becoming something unrecognizably new. But I can’t help but wonder whose voices I will hear within me after reconstruction is complete. Yet, I have grown accustomed to waiting. This waiting phase has become a permanent state of being, for both me and them. So, residents, welcome to my waiting phase. Do you wanna wait with me?
Best, Kino.