In search of lost souk
My eyes cry
- You're naked and you're white.
- Shut up or I put on the eyes a burka.
They want nothing to do and also covering:
- We'll talk after the wedding, waiting, you're white and you're single, why?
Why, oh yeah, why? Me, I was just looking souks ... and now I find myself with an existential question more about the arms.
- Because there is less hassled by con-not sure.
- Because we like to watch without speaking.
- Because if we waited until someone comes along, we would not do much.
- Because the day you meet the person who wants to shut his mouth at the same time as you, and Ben is already just won.
First, I am not alone, your eyes incessant nagging me and keep me company in spite of myself, tirelessly. And I'm not white. Finally, not anymore. When you arrive in a foreign country, which is nice, is that you do every thing for the first time. And for example, there is the first time I put the Biafine Beirut. But this is not very different from other times ... it soothes, it's cold.
You know where the souk?
- You're the souk.
- Yeah I know, but ...
So, I raise the nose to the sky I look at my eyes scan me too, but do not judge. They store everything in a mess from my memory, stairs, green will soon be eating them, the windows, every little ledge, salons devastated, those whose construction will never end. I have a soft spot for abandoned houses, their windows escape of effluvia, the smell of a majestic past. I've always wanted to marry the prince of the cake, I am like my house. These homes are castles, and my memory the souk of the situation.
I was just looking the souks of Beirut.
- You want an answer your question, dear?
- Yes, I want to ...
- Do not look, there is none.
Instead, Gucci, Starbucks, Virgin and Dunkin 'Donuts. Impossible to get lost in the souks disappeared, only to Beirut and I like it, I'll just hummus in my life, my love baklava here I am.
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