I know that the Lord our God, creator of all things, blessed you with the steep, sloping hillside above the road I walk every afternoon.  He also saw fit to bless you with a single cow.  Today I saw you fling your scythe at it to chase it further up hill.  You did not seem to see me today, but I know that you have seen me.  I get the sense that you see everything. I am as much a mystery to you as you are to me and even though I see you everyday, we are likely never to meet.  You are East and I, West.  You are a woman between the age of 35 and 65.  You wear the black of one who has lost a son.  Here in Tirana you might wear the black for five to ten years, not like the women of the North who wear black for the rest of their lives when a son dies.  Stout and stoic you have carved a place of beauty out of barren ugliness. Although we will not meet, I do profit from your service to this land.  Thank you for keeping watch, as you do.  You are the embodiment of so much about what there is to love about Albaina.