Beirut Port – Eye on the East

Being a writer, one usually knows from the start what type of writer one wants to be, or at least strives to. General categories as academic, fiction, non-fiction or journalistic writing are fairly simple to choose. A writer may experiment at first, but at the end, the pen gravitates towards categories that fit one’s strength, interest, or more importantly, one’s purpose in writing in the first place. However, there’s a certain mystery as to how certain subjects hover towards a writer, almost as if wanting to find them to get a story told. Without such magic and mystery, writing would lose a large part of its charm…

It’s been one endless, torturous month already. One month since what were childhood nightmares of war exploded when we thought we were living in peace. One month since our lives came shattering down into unrecoverable pieces in front of our eyes, just like the glass that remains in every street and corner of this broken city. One month since we thought that life could not get any more despondent, but to our own despair, it did. One month since the Beirut Port blast, since all the paths we ever walked in the city were drawn in blood, since its sound continues to reverberate, viciously intertwined with ambulance sirens, cries of fear and pain, since the night’s mortal silence became a sound only few were brave enough to listen to. One long month and it feels like the wound will always stay open.

Tag: Beirut Port

On “Multilingual Learning” and “Beyond Shattered Glass”

One Month Since the Beirut Blast: “The Wound Will Always Stay Open”