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Memory chooses to preserve what desire cannot hope to sustain.

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Beirut is the Elizabeth Taylor of cities: insane, beautiful, falling apart, aging, and forever drama laden.She'll also marry any infatuated suitor who...more

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Sex, like art, can unsettle a soul, can grind a heart in a mortar. Sex, like literature, can sneak the other within one's wall, even if for only a mom...more

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By remaining constrained in one's environment or country or family, one has little chance of being other than the original prescription. By leaving, o...more

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How can I expect readers to know who I am if I do not tell them about my family, my friends, the relationships in my life? Who am I if not where I fit...more

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I was always alone, Doc, solitary whether I wished to be or not, ever since I could remember I wished to be lost in another, thought that somehow I co...more

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Neither father nor son moved, but stayed face to face for hours and hours, neither looking away nor surrendering, until the sun finished its daily pil...more

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I was a tourist in a bizarre land. I was home.

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You can say that Lebanese has hundreds of lexemes for family relations. Family to the Lebanese is as snow to the Inuit.