Beirut Art Center, “Sexy Semites” ad in the Village Voice. It’s the next best thing since sliced flying pigs.
Arabic slips out occasionally, and sometimes the words are mine.
The sun is out and I am too. I’m squinting and smiling and admiring your crow’s feet. “Some kind of light is coming from her head.”
I’m still pissed off about Roman Polanski. And Arizona deserves to sleep on the couch.
Conversations at Cafe Younes, I will miss those. Starting to think about the things I’ll miss.
Went to Tripoli today. Took a bus from Beirut for a dollar, driving along the water the entire way and thinking “If I lived here…” I was eating knafe two hours later. Passed the big mosque and a creepy garden next door. Reminded me that if I ever get married, it will be at the Enchanted Garden Chapel. Why do women still marry men?
I’ve been walking far and my feet are flatter than ever.
Language keeps on getting in the way, trouble conjugating verbs and people.
Walking along Nahr Ibrahim, in the mountains. The water was cold and my jeans are still damp. My lungs needed that hike.
3anjad my lungs can hike!