october 18, 2004

beirut, beirut,

she has not changed.

she has only become more.

more beautiful every day...

i arrived in the dead of the night. w. picked me up and took me straight to the cornishe, the stretch of walkway along our beautiful med sea. it was one of those black black nights. the electricity was out. the moon was hiding. whatever i saw of w. and the night was through the occasional glaring lights of a passing by car. my eyes tried without success to figure out the horizon from the sea. it was the first hour of the first day of the rest of my life.

the next few days were spent preparing for the marathon and my art exhibit. it was wonderful walking though the streets, among the aroma of coffee and garbage, bumping into old friends and re-visiting stores and markets. nostalgia galore!

the marathon. euphoria! wearing the dress again reminded me of how wonderful it is to be alive. the intervention was more successful this year. people were asking why i still hadn't found a husband. and some were meeting me for the first time wondering why my dress was pink. the dialogue was rich and the exchange informative.

then immediately onto preparation for the installation. 3 days and nights of work, coffee, gold and glitter. it was a spiritual awakening. and wonderful to work with my sister, lover and friends. unlike the cold and lonely brooklyn days.

10 days of non-stop. 10 beautiful days of work, life, family and beautiful beautiful beirut.

i wonder how long this will last for. i know beirut and know what she's capable of. i remember why i left the first time. but, i am stronger now. i am on a mission.

there is talk of war. as usual. civil war in lebanon is a 30 year cycle. we've had about 14 years of relative calm. that means we're half way through. that means i have 14 years left to do everything i came to do. it seems like a long time. but, really it's not. if this makes any sense.

i've been waking up to olive skin and bitter caffeine. to black hair and musical prayers.

the other night, the first night of ramadan, the call for prayer was especially beautiful. imagine waking up to a voice of such melodious qualities that you are unsure if you're still in sleep. i opened my eyes. it was pitch dark. the electricity was out again. but the voice filled my room, making it's entrance though the open window. the cool october breeze escorting prayer. thin curtains caressing my face. i turn to my side to find a warm breath snuggled to my neck. dream, dream, dreaming... god is great. god is good.

now i sit in an office of blue bic pens. photocopies of recent lebanese environmental laws are strewed across the floor. pictures of ships and dolphins taped to the light yellow walls. directly in front of me is the blue blue sea. the view is decorated by concrete blocks of building buildings. the air is salty and speaks of change. the temperature, dreamy, encouraging revolution.

revolution of everyday life. to have and to hold.

the lighthouse is ringing.

the steel cables and tv antennas reflect the times of here and now.

of beirut.

hours later.
i once heard a story that eddie veder only sang "black" in concert when asked to by his lebanese friends. i guess he thought that if there was any one who could relate, it would be us. thank you, eddie.