(Credit: Michele Aoun)
Paris, last week, on an evening of torrential rain. E. and I meet for the first time since returning from Beirut.The summer "over there" already feels distant, a blur. All that remains of "there" are a few sun-soaked memories left on our skin. The tastes and smells of home carried with us in our luggage. E. tells me that from "there," what remains for her, sadly, is bitterness and, in any case, immense incomprehension."Honestly, I can't believe it was such a party, so wild, such total euphoria in Beirut. As if we had forgotten that the South was still occupied, still being bombed every day, that people still have not been able to return to their villages and homes. I don't want to judge, but this is the first time that the gap between Lebanese people has felt so shocking. I don't want to...
Paris, last week, on an evening of torrential rain. E. and I meet for the first time since returning from Beirut.The summer "over there" already feels distant, a blur. All that remains of "there" are a few sun-soaked memories left on our skin. The tastes and smells of home carried with us in our luggage. E. tells me that from "there," what remains for her, sadly, is bitterness and, in any case, immense incomprehension."Honestly, I can't believe it was such a party, so wild, such total euphoria in Beirut. As if we had forgotten that the South was still occupied, still being bombed every day, that people still have not been able to return to their villages and homes. I don't want to judge, but this is the first time that the gap between Lebanese people has felt so shocking. I don't want to...
