I am not smelling anything fresh anymore. On my bicycle when I ride the dirty and polluted streets of Beirut I get the sour tastes of combustions deep into my throat I got to wash it down with a deep breath of memories of some long forgotten walks in green parks that don't exist anymore, or worst never did. I bathe in the cloud of yellow and brown smoke that is visible only from the high points over the city, and even those who bought houses in hope for a view have lost it to the corrupt weather of seedles planning and visionaries that can only talk nonsense into the minds of masses driven by fear and hunger, needless it is to say that one last step into civilization does not come from the ground up, and building higher cities does not makes us closer to the sun, the moon, or the clouds. Giving names to things that have big material value does not make them human and further more I believe that the life we are hoping to remember is not the one that our ancestors have imagined, and surely not the one our filthy politicians are claiming we are heading for.
The sour tastes come back as I dive behind loaded trucks with fresh earth that had been dug ironically to cover the historic sites of a city that had existed thousands of years ago, yet no one is sure about our suistainability. Water is lazy in the summer, and we have yet to receive the grace of rain fall to wash our sins, and those of our fathers, and the sins we are leaving for all the new generations to come.I have no hope in Beirut, yet I am fighting blindly my way through mazes I am creating in the void. This is the taste of Beirut today, I am going to lunch on the trunk of an illegaly parked SUV.
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