I have known Marie, beautiful as she was with very dark brown eyes, a lively and pleasant women. Her expressive eyes were gentle in tenderness and sharp in cruelty. We have been face to face on stage, as a mother and daughter, as a mother-in-law with her daughter-in-law, as friends, as enemies. She was a serious partner, with a great fantasy. She loved flowers!

We have played together since long times past till her last part. We have shared almost always the same dressing-room. Once, while we were working on to choosing the masks for the play "The morals of Mrs Dulska", she was anxious because something was lacking in her character. I asked her:

-What’s the matter, Marie?

-I can’t find what is lacking to this make-up, she answered, and than she screamed, I found it! A mole! It’s a mole on the face I have to add; this will make my face cruel but also beautiful, like Mrs Dulska’s.

When we were rehearsing on "Halili and Hajria", I said her:

-Why are you dragging your shoes on?

-Ah, she said, Fatima the soothsayer, who has the difficult task to make Hajrie talk, ought to appear as the master of the house, someone that should make even the rats in the attic tremble.

Our beloved Marie! She used to get up at five o’clock in the morning, watered the flowers in the garden, fed her many doves, then would sit and work on her parts. My memoirs about her are so many!

While we were rehearsing the play "The Përkolgjinajs", Marie was doing Mara, a leading role that I think is as good performed as Loke’s; and Marie said:

-I am confused, I lack a relation between me and Mara’s troubles, I am chilly...

Then I saw her hurrying towards some stage objects, grabing an handkerchief. The voice of director Pirro Mani suggested to rehearse it over again. Marie’s Mara sounded quite different, the handkerchief gave her an inner liberation and harmony of the character. Her voice changed, the eyes were glittering, she was phrasing the words precisely, emotions and logic were reaching a perfect exactitude.

There have been many cases when we happened "to die" on stage and the audience applause seemed to command our resurrection. When the audiences applause that means each of us artists has conjured a warm nest in their minds. And this seems to be the case with many of the good artists; they are resurrected continuously, till you never imagine them dying away from the world.