The Living Museum

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The shops’ goods pave the broken road, soothing the wavy maze of the old souk. Covered in blemishes, riddled with secret treasures, the shadows live in contrast to the midday sun. Juxtaposition of modern day life and the beauty of a Mamluk era unfold amongst its tiny alleyways. Poised in the blameless blue sky, Tripoli’s old souk actively survives with its old quarter gracing this land with its stunning architecture as the Mediterranean breeze still beats as it did centuries ago across its limbs.

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The Art of Weaving

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They sit, regardless of where they are, sharing a common love of the arts, weaving with colored threads that expand and retract in a space that seems lost in time. Their nimble fingers working while a certain peaceful silence hovers above encompassing them in their work. Weaving, an art that has been forever been installed in the fabric of the crafts of this land, is still alive.

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The Rare One

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In the early morning, it tips its head back with valor. The Iris Sofrana peels back her feeble generous petals with drops and folds of lilac streaked canvas. Her elegant anatomy, stripped from the neck down, stands gracefully. Reaching skywards, ribbed with natural frill, raw with the colors of flower flesh white tiger stripes and purple veins, it curls towards the ground like tears and lifts up like laughter. Her petals cover her heart, the center of its being as if to contain some sacred secret that is gently holding at her bosom.

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