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.
Continue reading “One Month Since the Beirut Blast: “The Wound Will Always Stay Open””“From What Used to be My Window”
For as long as I have written about Lebanon, I have realized that the road toward change would need time and patience. I knew it would take a lot of time, but the more time passed, the more I ran out of patience and deeper into hopelessness that I would see any change at all. Continue reading ““From What Used to be My Window””