>parisian photos and lebanese moments of awe
>the night of august 13th, when wendy and i hit the town with the 3 smokin’ french rollerbladers jeremie, marc, and soheil.
soheil and me, with my incredibly strong pina colada that wendy finished for me in 2 seconds flat.
i can’t believe that night in paris was a month ago. i can’t believe my present memories should be considered the past . . .
last night as i sat in place d’étoile in downtown beirut, i watched someting truly miraculous.
a little boy was blowing bubbles that rose lightly through the yellow-blue sky. two little girls in pig-tails zoomed in circles on their pink training-wheeled bicycles. families laughed as they slurped up suglar-plum and pistachio ice cream and wiped the mess of their bursting cheeks with the backs of their hands. a street painter amassed large crowds as she surrealistically painted the horizon with brash reds and subtle yellows. photographers and videocameras perfectly timed the lavish entrance of a bride sitting up on the back of the convertable seat, waving to the nouveau-riche and prestigious guests like a pageant queen in a parade. in her highly stylized white gown, she and her posh family slowly made their way through the sea of wedding guests into the st. george’s orthodox cathedral in the square. music played through the streets and the cafés bustled with life.
the life of this place is undeniably intoxicating.
but what was the catch?
all of these scenes were mere inches from rifle-weilding military men, frowning with suspicion and anger. place d’étoile was littered with at least a half dozen ak.47’d officers. and as the children giggled behind their ice cream cones, bubbles, and bikes, the infantrymen clutched their triggers to their thighs.
mere inches. centimetres. a heartbeat between. what is and what should never be.
today is september 11th. i fly out of here at 4am.
i feel like emptied like a wine glass. je cours vers toi mais c’est déjà trop tard.