A view of Beirut around dusk. (Credit: Mohammad Yassin/L'Orient-Le Jour)
It's a very particular kind of "walk." Beirut was already a fragmented, anxious city, where everyone stood upright as best they could. Each neighborhood has its own story, its own characteristics, its traumas and its "protectors."But for the past three weeks, it has become a human pressure cooker, ready to boil over at the slightest jolt. Some people hole up in silence, others are ready to get things off their chest without preamble. Another field report Mohammad Aziz, chief captain of an airport at war As you move from one neighborhood to another — each swelled by tens of thousands of displaced people fleeing Israeli bombings — the city seems to change its breath, rhythm and even its temperature. The sidewalks overflow with interrupted stories, grief, escape, cars parked bumper-to-bumper and lives stuck in...
It's a very particular kind of "walk." Beirut was already a fragmented, anxious city, where everyone stood upright as best they could. Each neighborhood has its own story, its own characteristics, its traumas and its "protectors."But for the past three weeks, it has become a human pressure cooker, ready to boil over at the slightest jolt. Some people hole up in silence, others are ready to get things off their chest without preamble. Another field report Mohammad Aziz, chief captain of an airport at war As you move from one neighborhood to another — each swelled by tens of thousands of displaced people fleeing Israeli bombings — the city seems to change its breath, rhythm and even its temperature. The sidewalks overflow with interrupted stories, grief, escape, cars parked bumper-to-bumper and lives stuck...
