Thursday, October 16, 2014

Since the city is small

This man, the one you don't know
Yet often see, since the city is small

Who stays a while, who drinks his wine
Often by himself,
yet sometimes babbles with your friends, 
or friends of friends,
Since the city is small, and the bar is smaller.

This man, the one you don't know, 
yet to whom you smile, 
Has got an appealing face, a mystery grace
Got you intrigued but you don't know why

This man has always left
A bit too soon,
this man has always moved a bit to fast
Out of your sight, 

Sitting with your friends, laughing all aloud
You did not see the intruding smile


He held your hand and lifted you up, 
And you flew away from the friendly spot
To this man you listened 
He did actually talk, 
Intrigued you were, just for how long?
With words you replied: of course, what else?


Did he notice what you said? it is not important 
Obvious that became, you drank more wine
To haze the certain
Yet, the moment is always here for now,
Or was there for then, to be quite precise.

This man, the one you know 
and often see, since the eyes are there
Yet don't often note, since the city is cold
Who stays a while, who drinks his wine
Has got a face that lost its glare

You sit with your friends, you lift your eyes
you shake your head, you don't mean the smirk
you've meant a 'hello,
we have met before'

you don't understand how 
your sight can change, for what you see,
Is a man you know, since the city is small,
A friend of a friend, and nothing more.

Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Massive Attack at Byblos Festival

It was a great concert, with a professional band advocating for basic human rights while giving a gigantic show. All that in the beautiful setting of the old Byblos / Jbeil city.

From Mosul Christians to Gaza strip, to the refugees in Lebanon, all got mentioned.


Check out Glamroz video.

Monday, April 21, 2014

Rothko and this wall

I never understood (the emotions of a) Rothko painting until I kept being stuck in traffic in front of this wall.

The white not so white, the yellow not so yellow, the brown not so brown, the horizontal lines

Repetitively. For it couldn't move me at the beginning, specially if I was having a bad day, (or a too jolly day to see things), but then one day, a good day, I saw it: this sensuality of the expression and the sensation it gives, Rothko spoke about but, I never really grasped. And, from then on, it stayed with me. On a good day, and on a bad day.

The next time you are passing by, art (or a crumbled wall wanting to be art) might make your day better, or maybe just this moment you see it, a sensation of ease and peace will get hold of you, like the effect of a poem, of a musical rhyme, or of rain; of things you understand move you, but not really why.
It will get hold of you, and you will somehow regret the green light obliging you to move, putting an end to your poetic moment, while you will try to hold its effect the longest within you.

sourceWhen I finally had the opportunity of seeing live Rothko's paintings at the Tate Modern, I was able to make that connection between the images of the paintings I had seen in books and online/ the wall of that building in Beirut/ the actual paintings. 

And I wonder:

Will the new building, that is soon going to swipe that one away, be able to create any poetry, any music, any art in our city?

Qu'y aura t-il derrière la façade des choses?

What will happen to this shell?  
The compromise between completely destroying the heritage building or keeping it, is keeping only "a façade" and building inside and above it (a 10 story building). 
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