Fatmir Terziu (born 24 July 1964 in Elbasan) is an Albanian writer, filmmaker and journalist. After completing his studies, he worked as a teacher and head teacher in many schools in Ostren i Madh, Plangaricë, Gracen, Polis i Vogël, Shtërmen, Elbasan. In the UK he continued his studies for HNC-HND Media Production at South Thames College, for Communication at London South Bank University and later for DFVP at LSBU (2004-2007). He gained MA for Media, Cultural Studies & Politics at Roehampton University and a PhD from LSBU. In 1992 he began working as chief editor of local newspaper “Fjala e Lirë” (or Free Speech) and in 1997 as Television director, presenter and journalist in TV DARDAN. During that time he also worked in other areas of the Albanian media. Mr. Terziu was correspondent of the Democratic Party newspaper “Rilindja Demokratike” (RD, Democratic Rebirth) from 1994 until April 2001. Since 2001 he has worked as a freelance journalist in newspapers, and magazines in Albania and elsewhere in Europe.
In 1990 he published a book called Don't Silencewith the help of the publisher “Sejko” in Albania, and another volume of short stories, “The Argadas Devil”, was published by “Silver”. In 1996 he published “Walking on Glass” (Ecje ne Qelq) with “Silver” publishing house. He is author of the study A Different Critique: An Insight Into Albanian Poetry and Prose(2009 Publisher Arbëria), a study recognised as a modern and professional study by the National Curriculum in Albanian Ministry of Culure. Also in 2009 the publishing house “Globus R” published his study in English language Media, Technology and Everyday Lifeand his book with short stories called The Misterious Woman. Terziu is author of forty books in prose, poetry and studies.
He also wrote, directed and edited the Documentary film Trokamat ne Jeten e nje Penefeaturing a veteran teacher. This documentary was produced with the help of studio Iraj in London. Other short films and documentaries written, directed, shot and edited by Fatmir Terziu are: Rivermusic (2004), Windy Corner (2005), Sentimental Journey (2006), Footsteps in Life of a Writer (2007). He has made other short documentaries that are selected for BBC, such as Pencil and Computer and One Egg. Fatmir Terziu is known in the UK for his essay, Parametric Narration in Norman Wisdom's Films, written in 2007. It later appeared in a collection of his essays entitled with the same name, and numerous other online websites. His article was one that helped shift the orientation of film theory towards a study into the parametric narration of Norman Wisdom's films. Terziu was awarded by the President of Albania with a award “Great Master”.
• Don't Silence (Mos Hesht) poetry 2000, "Sejko" Albania. • Walking on a Glass (Ecje ne Qelq) poetry 2006, "Silver" Albania • The Argadas Devil (Djalli i Argadasit) short stories 2005, "Silver" Albania. • The Mysterious Woman (Misteriozja) short stories 2009, "Globus R" Albania • A Different Critique: An Insight Into Albanian Poetry and Prose (Kritika ndryshe: Një vëzhgim në brendësi të prozës dhe poezisë shqiptare) (Analiza-Kritika-Studime: Pjesa e parë) "Arbëria", Albania. • Media, Technology and Everyday Life (Media, Teknologjia dhe Jeta e Përditshme) "Globus R" Albania etc.
•Windy Corner film • Clouds of Smoke • [Footsteps in the life of a writer]"Footsteps in the Life of a Writter" • Sentimental Journay • Think Again • Rivermusic • Pencil and Computer • One Egg • Bloodied Earth • Rrugova Dance in London etc.
THE CHURCH OF THE EYES
Those just out of the egg,
The confused yellowings
Open their wings, take an unreasoned stance,
Only their mothers understand them.
They open their light wings
Over fleshy bodies, carefully breathing.
Pressed against the blossoming buds,
The rose petals
Guarded by the thorns.
The aroma of the flowers, the varied colours, everything
Embraces the reason of love in the church of the eyes;
the prayers have started.
In the garden, the last preparations are performed
By all the living things,
It is the time of multiplications
And love has raised its head.
Over newly blossomed roses
Where the buds shade the egg hatchlings
A snake slithers towards the nest
Aiming to end
the newly born dreams.
The thorns are privy to the wrath of the sun,
Bringing from above the whole curse of the sky.
The feast restarts soon,
When the snake fleetingly burns in flame.
How I would have liked to have learned the language
and especially Sundays
If only I knew their language
They have a melody in their rhythm
They float slightly off the ground
And then as nails they attack the floor
Stabbing as deep as the veins, the arteries
Ah, I didn’t learn their language, for God’s sake!
Long stilettos, short and small ones
They all have a unique language
Stepping on concrete, dry earth, or sandy ground
The stilettos continue their typical movement,
The type of stilettos that only God knows how He made them
Multiply in number everyday like a species of mice.
I know that the stilettos belong to the women
So to understand their language care is needed
Stilettos are just as strong and durable
When holding delicate feet,
Or even when like bottles the feet weigh down on them.
For a long time I have wanted to learn the language of stilettos
Even though I do not understand a single stroke
in the dictionary
For a while I have wanted to learn something
Since I was a boy,
Since I was young…
And even now that my eyes twinkle upon them
Oh. How stilettos wake up something in me
And you should know it is not a secret
Without stilettos it seems as if the river will takes us
And the earth will decay us quicker…
Stilettos have an amazing language
They break stones and wood beneath them
But I do not know if when old women wear them,
Do they cause the same fuss?
WITHOUT YOU MY LOVE
A coffee that I drank without you,
A coffee called Mocha
I hardly swallowed it down
Without you the coffee was nothing.
In a café that I was in until midnight
A cold sweat occupied my body
My eyes frozen in a photo
I was tearful.
In a cold glass opposite a window
My grey-hair lit up like neon
Tell me my dear. Please tell me!
Why did you leave me last night alone?
The coffee that I drank without you
Cold, hot… even Mocha,
Made it clear in my mind
Without YOU no coffee could be swallowed.
No mountains, no hills
Light breeze, a little bit hot
Rain that makes you shower
Worlds centre, non-sleeping metropolis
North, South all Worlds united in one point
English, that beauty sings around the Thames.
Roads on Earth, underground, sky, ocean
Multiplied everyday capillaries
Start and slow down in London.
Days, months, years, centuries
Witnessing the history freely in books, museums
Here is my language among other hundreds of languages
Spoken in London’s streets, schools and communities
We thank you for life, London!
I, a digital movement in this surge
Rush to socialise with the time
Thankful to London!