Emile Nasr at the top of the stands of the Roman hippodrome of Tyre, August 1990. (Credit: Georges Boustany)
Roman Hippodrome of Tyre [Sour], early August 1990. Emile Nasr has climbed to the top of the stands, and suddenly, these ruins reveal their full scale.My friend leans on a column to take in the whole sight, no doubt imagining the vibrant atmosphere of the races that took place here two millennia ago. I took this photo at that moment, without any artistic pretension. Today, I look at it, and it hurts. Emile, standing among the columns, as if set between sky and stone, contemplates our vast past with the calm attitude of a tourist who's seen other wonders. He does not yet know that his most beautiful act of resistance will be to found the Agenda Culturel, nor that his daughter, Myriam, will carry the torch after his death.He also doesn't know that one day, this very land will be threatened in its very identity. He appreciates this...
Roman Hippodrome of Tyre [Sour], early August 1990. Emile Nasr has climbed to the top of the stands, and suddenly, these ruins reveal their full scale.My friend leans on a column to take in the whole sight, no doubt imagining the vibrant atmosphere of the races that took place here two millennia ago. I took this photo at that moment, without any artistic pretension. Today, I look at it, and it hurts. Emile, standing among the columns, as if set between sky and stone, contemplates our vast past with the calm attitude of a tourist who's seen other wonders. He does not yet know that his most beautiful act of resistance will be to found the Agenda Culturel, nor that his daughter, Myriam, will carry the torch after his death.He also doesn't know that one day, this very land will be threatened in its very identity. He appreciates...
