“Did you ever say yes to a pleasure? Oh my friends, then you also said yes to all pain. All things are linked, entwined, in love with one another.” – Friedrich Nietzsche They say when you meet someone for the first time, that’s not the whole book, rather just the first page. Time passes and it’s not just the person anymore, you add moments, situations, trinkets and people to […]
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Cross Eyed Revolution

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“Did you ever say yes to a pleasureOh my friendsthen you also said yes to all painAll things are linkedentwined, in love with one another.” – Friedrich Nietzsche

They say when you meet someone for the first time, that’s not the whole book, rather just the first page. Time passes and it’s not just the person anymore, you add moments, situations, trinkets and people to the package. You add their hopes and defeats, their aspirations and fears, you get acquainted with their past, and their present as well. With time, things will start to get more complicated, kind of like that old building in the city you just learned about. 

As I aimlessly strolled in the streets of Beirut, I started to look up at the old buildings in the neighborhoods, the buildings who survived wars, riots and clashes. Each was beautiful in its own way, while many of the buildings continued to wear their timeworn look well, others have been given a colorful face-life with clean beiges and whites, as well as fun pastel tones.

He looked just as worn out as that old building on the corner of his house, he was tired of his life, little by little and over time it’s affected him a lot his job, his writing, it didn’t taste the same for him, just like any other resident in the city, he felt the pressure, the load all the contradictions left over his shoulders, the dichotomy of it all, of love and relationships, of work, family and social duties, of the struggling city.

They were still newly together, and it dawned on her, that they were turning pages, that the blank canvas was being filled, that the packaging was being ripped open, showing many colors and shapes. What she feared most, was the rush, that with every layer being open, there was a treasure looking up, scarred, bruised and fucked up, but she didn’t mind. She was about to take the plunge.

I turned to him, and kissed him, slowly, lingeringly, my hands running through his hair. It wasn’t like that first kiss months before. This one was big and complicated and full of colours and textures. It held stories in it, of a man and a young girl discovering the world around her, one who has been in a cross eyed revolution, who had just begun to find her way, and that made it even better.

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