Një punonjës i kanalizimeve shikon fëmijët duke luajtur në shi

Koordinimi i projektit Storie Nostrum në Shqipëri: Vincent Mespoulet

Koordinimi shkencor: Marie-Pierre Dausse/Belisa Muka

Autor: Vincent Mespoulet

Përshtatja e tekstit të podkastit: Vincent Mespoulet / Përkthimi shqip: Anxhelo Bici / Përkthimi anglisht: Ruth Bourchier

Krijimi i zërit: Siwol Gu, Iris Lainé, Arthur Faraldi, Alexandre Fogelgesang, Paul Girault

Zëri: Romir Zalla

English version:

The kids are very restless today! Will you look at that! They’re jostling, arguing, shouting and running all over the place, what a festival!The street is the children’s territory, the elders prefer sitting wisely in the shade under the arcade of the stoa to protect themselves from the sun and catch the fresh breeze when the wind gets up in the early afternoon. If the kids are so excited, it must be because of the gathering storm. They’re waiting impatiently for it! You could already see the lightning in the distance over the city of Avlon, this morning. You could already see the lightning in the distance over the city of Avlon, this morning. The black clouds are coming up from the south, the sky is darkening visibly, the thunder is starting to rumble, the rain won’t be long coming. My work is directly linked to storms and rain. I maintain the gutters and drains of the city. I clean them when they’re filled with earth and rubbish. People throw their litter any old how! Over time, our great city has acquired a magnificent system to get rid of or store rain water. But in order for it to work, you have to carefully calculate the gradient so that the water drains out to the walls without overflowing onto the streets. You have to build sumps and tanks to convey and store the water. A huge job given the size and needs of our city. There we are, it’s raining hard. The boldest children are jumping with both feet in the puddles and splashing each other. Hey look, there’s one opening his mouth wide to drink the rain. He’s going to get soaked to the bone. It’s not going to last, the mothers are already coming to get the smallest ones and scolding them when they’re covered in mud. They’re still carefree, life is good for them. I didn’t have such a happy childhood. My father often whipped me severely and my mother died giving birth to me. Maybe that’s why my father never loved me. Come on, children, shelter yourselves now or Zeus will send you a lightning bolt for your insolence! And remember the words of Heraclitus: “Time is a child playing!” Just because I clean drains doesn’t mean I know nothing about philosophy.