2024-01-01 01:00:08
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That was in the past. The past is a past thing. It was called that because it does not return. It all goes away. His beautiful things, and his heavy things. In that past, I used to feel nostalgic for Beirut wherever I was. Sometimes the nostalgia begins on the night of travel. I don’t quite know what I’m longing for. Nothing exactly specific. A collection of people, things, customs, and scenes that include waterfalls, streams, and specters from the time of love. The first, second, and thirteenth. The number of kings of France and more. This is pronounced with its severity, because one of the Ministers of Culture who brought it up with the Syrian Brotherhood, used to pronounce it "niva" broken, bald from its severity, or its crown.
That wasn’t important. The man was kind and funny. When one of his friends pointed him out to the linguistic problem, he said with a laugh: "It’s simple, my man, stress with the minus, stress with the plus, it won’t upset your uncle Sibawayh". Colloquially, "hardship" is also the sole.
I was longing for Beirut. Whenever I complained about my situation to Brigadier General Raymond Edde in Paris, during the war, he would say with his decisive wit, "Be wise, Beirut will not return as we knew it. You want to endure Paris". Then he laughs.
We didn’t believe the dean. We thought it was one of his bitter jokes on Lebanon’s politics. And I kept yearning for Beirut. And I write about it &- and it &- that it is the city of freedom. The City of Freedom. I live in London, opposite Hyde Park, and there are flocks of ducks beating their wings in the water to protest the late spring and the emergence of the yellow daffodil.
You can judge the mental ratio: a man lives opposite Hyde Park, where freedom speeches are made against the queen, the government, and the press, and in support of Mohamed Al-Fayed, and he feels nostalgic for Beirut.
But this is what happened. And it happened a long time ago. We sold our apartment overlooking the flocks of ducks and returned to Beirut. Here too, the government and the state, if they exist, are criticized. But here, if the Minister of Culture, who hates harshness, goes, there comes a Minister of Culture whose only relationship is "culture", that he is a relative of the First Lady. That is, the wife of the first president. Our government in London was headed by Margaret Thatcher, who went to the Falkland Islands to fight Argentina for the sovereignty of her country. Here, President Michel Aoun is not succeeded by anyone.
You will say that there was once a brilliantly intelligent man who lived across from a flock of ducks in London and longed for Beirut, so he returned to Beirut and did not find it. I went to the past. And the past, as “the Brigadier General” used to assert, does not return. Whenever I think of Beirut, I am filled with nostalgia for the flocks of ducks in Hyde Park Lake.
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#Duck #neighbor