The barman likes you…

      Illusions of a fruit bar lay there in the light of rosé. Still life of a past, not past. Sometimes I see a vision of myself in glass. Awaiting, a waiting in disguise. No veil, no blindfold. Just transparent, today, yesterday, tomorrow. As shown in the illusions of pineapple pieces floating in…

Peace, one of a kind.

These empty streets you see are not what I see. But what is History? What is a people? And what, I ask you, is a state? Empty streets are just an illusion. In peace, it is early. In war, it is danger. What History has told us is always the truth. Sometimes, it is but…

….. et une fin d’histoire.

Une histoire d’un autre jour encore je me suis demander pourquoi nous sommes tous coincés dans un cercle vicieux !   FIN.

it’s been a week, Beyrouth

I couldn’t write last week. I couldn’t publish. I don’t like being too personal on this blog but given the events of 4 August, last Tuesday, I had no energy all week. A traumatic event is an emotional upheaval. I saw  9/11 with my own eyes as a child, growing up in front of Manhattan….

une histoire, un espace,

Une histoire d’un autre jour, c’est ce dessin que je porte en moi. Qu’est-ce? Un espace qui demande d’être accompli. Un voyage qui demande d’être fait. Mon désir de savoir qui est mieux? Personne. Juste donnes-moi cet espace à être rempli.  Ce voyage à accomplir. Les rouges, les bleus, les dorés, cet océan, cette mer….

Deep down ……. a signal please.

Give me a signal so I can stop And ponder What I know I lost. What I am losing. Tell me                what am I? what will I be? what was I? I can’t remember Don’t let me go back Because what is the point? Give me a signal so I know what can happen, what…

first thoughts on a revolution

The first night Nighttime hippies, hip, old school styles. All red. All green. All white. All cardboard “Solidarity”, waving flags. I’ve never felt at home anywhere really. Maybe sometimes. But this night was a dream. It was home. Tartines au zaatar. 1 lookoom per person. 1 famous singer of our very own rock alternative band….

Toi, ce chemin, et moi.

Une image s’élève de toi. Bien grande, bien lointaine. Je me sens …. ……… ……… loin. pas à côté. à côté de la plaque. mais pas trop. Ce chemin, j’ai cru le prendre mille fois. Et pourtant. Pourtant. Je ne l’ai jamais emprunté. #Longlost #wandering #somewherenew

what you find when you’re lost.

Machine, small and lonely, sits on the pavement. I am the means to travel, it lulled. I am the means for travel. Fast and furious, through the hills, into the mountains. To the lake. I lost my way on this winding road. Buildings, Soviet-style. Concrete jungle unlike the one I left behind. Another world. Pas…

clippings of a Revolution.

Emotions on Lebanese Revolution: Second night Excitement has never hit me like tonight. Arabic, French, English all in one sentence. Yes to my childhood again. Not those summers in France. My father knows you. But not me. Yet it’s all I ever dreamed of, unconsciously.   Beginning of the second week Writing session. Setting: Manousheh,…