post 269/365
The asphalt road ends with a beaten track. Although one is connected to the other, yet there is a clear line of division between the manmade road and the one that the trees and the passing of time have devised.
livelovelebanon
The Lost Times
post 267/365
They sit at the station, with nowhere to go, empty rusting trains asking themselves when will they reach their destiny.
Where the Streets Have no Name
post 265/365
I want to run. I want to hide. I want to find my way in this city with many lives.
The Forgotten Temples
post 264/365
A few kilometers from Furzol, along the Damascus Road, lies the town of Niha, with its beautifully restored Roman temple that rises majestically out of the wilderness. Its body in ruins and frail, it tells of many tales of a lost time.
The Valley of the Hermit
post 263/365
The cave opens its great crumbling maw. Streaks of light fall on the sparse green blades, which dot the floor. The rocks push forth from the ground, like fingers reaching to air. These enclosed little caves of past human life lay empty, desolate, only the wind traverses them with ease. They rest soundless in the glen lit by diffused and dappled sun.
The Visionary
post 262/365
“I give priority to up bringing over education because the ultimate goal of up bringing is morals, and we have a more urgent need for morals than for knowledge.”
The Little Shack by the Sea
post 260/365
Unsigned and without an official address, this simple but much-loved seafood restaurant is located in an old fisherman’s shack behind a rock near the Phoenician sea wall and has an idyllic terrace overlooking the water. Finding it is no easy job. Hidden among old Batroun’s small winding alleys, it faces the sea humbly with its brightly painted beachfront shack.
The One that Herniates
post 259/365
He gets up early, 5:30 sharp to be exact. At 6:00 he opens the doors to his sweet shop in Basta el faw’a to get that fresh air from the slow-waking city. For just a little while, time stands still and he starts his preparation for a day of stirring and cooking allowing him to take in this life with a deep inhale and appreciation of this skill he has perfected over he years.
The Island
post 258/365
The salty sea slaps against the beach, seeming so endless as wave after wave crashes onto a sandy shore and explore a land carved into the palm trees. There is more than just the sight, the sounds of water splashing, and birds squawking, there is the way the sand feels as it presses against your feet and the cool touch of the water caressing your bare skin as fish rush past you, briefly brushing against your leg. The breeze fights off the heat on the beach and then as the sun starts to set, all that is left is the gentle sound of the waves and the fleeting light waving goodbye with beautiful colors decorating the sky and as all the creatures start to sleep on shore there is a whole other world below.
The Garbage Warrior
post 257/365
“Something is rotten in the state of Denmark”
William Shakespeare, Hamlet
365 Days of Lebanon 