I am just back from Beirut, the head full of images. Beirut is like that aunt that cracks you up every time you see her but you forget you miss when you haven't seen her for a while. I usually remember how much I miss Lebanon when my foot actually hits it's ground. That's also when I remember what real cities look like: several layers of history overlapping one another. Streets leading you from one era to an other, treasures, vignettes, emotions, quirky bars flourishing in every destroyed building, all wrapped in one city that keeps reinventing itself and surviving no matter what. Beirut is a paradox: as quirky as traditional, as intellectual as party-central, as peaceful as troubled, as welcoming as scary to some.
Today I'm sending you postcards from the seaside: fishermen, swimming lads and lovers.