The good thing when writing about Beirut – on its quintessence, not the daily abundance of superficial cosmetic changes mistaken for reform and progress – is that once you do, you’ll probably won’t have anything better to say in a long time, if ever. What makes Beirut what it is is deeply engrained – part of which isn’t necessarily for the better – and takes time to change, if ever.

When I was approached by the American University of Beirut’s MainGate team, asking to feature an excerpt of my writing in their latest issue (No. 2 – 2025), this excerpt on Beirut is one of the first that came to mind:

“Beirut never asks you to come back to it. It entices you to and makes you come back out of your own volition. If Beirut were a person, it would be irresistibly charming, more than anybody you would ever meet. Someone you would keep falling hopelessly in love with, even though you’d always know it would be a tumultuous, love and hate relationship with no future whatsoever. If Beirut were a force of nature, it would be a glorious sunset after a furious storm, though you’d always be left guessing when the next storm will hit, because it always does and stronger than the one before.”

For quite some time, especially following the devastating war we endured in 2023-2024, there seems to be some sort of feeling that things in Lebanon have changed. Whether it is out of a desperate attempt to reject hopelessness no matter how illusory, some people believe that suddenly, the country has been healed, that we’re doing better, that genuine change is around the corner, or at least that we’re on right path toward getting there. You shouldn’t be surprised that I find that hard to believe. What I do believe is that it’s yet another illusion, concocted and sustained by those who truly believe, want to believe, or are forced to believe. But that’s just me…

When I wrote that quote about Beirut, it was part of a longer piece titled “Ungrateful Beirut.” Needless to say I was deeply disillusioned, I didn’t regret having chosen to make this city my home, but I felt cheated and stabbed in the back. Finally, however, and at that very moment, I had become indifferent to it, careless, unsympathetic and unconcerned, ready to migrate into a self-constructed bubble that would protect me from it once and for all. I was tired of giving it anymore chances. And seemingly refuse to do so…