Once again I find myself packing all my belongings and moving out from what has been my home for the past year. I have moved seven times in the past five years. And although I have become more detached from materialistic possesions and developed the art of letting go, I still manage to find myself with three huge suitcases impossible to lift. How did I manage to accumulate so much stuff in so little time? And I thought I was doing well!
I have definitely made an effort. While I was a compulsive buyer in my younger years, I now find myself more content with one new quality item of clothing than four average skirts on sale. Decluttering has become my favorite activity, one that I perform every season.
Filed under clutter, Goodbyes, home, Life, London, minimalistic, moving, packing, philosophy, storage, suitcases, travel
There is nothing cool about being in your twenties. Whoever said it was is a big fat liar. When you are twenty-something, you worry about university. About exams. About last minute revisions. About whether you did well or if you could have answered question 5 differently.
In your twenties, you suffer your first major heartbreak, the one that changes you as a person. The one that makes you insecure, lonely, bitter. The one that makes you write poems, listen to Radiohead and eat pizza in bed. You make new friends. You go out a lot. Only to come back to a very lonely place.
Filed under disappointment, Dream, Family, freedom, Friends, Goodbyes, growing up, Lebanon, Life, London, loneliness, Love, Memories, people, Relationships, soul, struggle, Work
The Lebanese passport is not the best one to have. Don’t get me wrong, I am proud of my country. Yes, I am proud. Proud of being able to ‘ski and swim on the same day’, proud of our hummus, proud of our multi-lingual upbringing, proud of the Lebanese success stories on the international scene keeping in mind Lebanon is a tiny-teeny country, proud of our family values, of our strong educational institutions, of our sophisticated banking system, of our ability to (kind of) cohabitate when we are 18 officially recognized religious groups, proud of our ability to survive (and somehow forget) a painful – and recurrent – history, of our persistence to make it happen on our land despite all odds, of the fun in our clubs… Being Lebanese has however a lot of downsides. Holding the Lebanese passport is one of many.
Filed under Ambition, Dream, Family, freedom, Goodbyes, growing up, Lebanon, Life, London, struggle, Work
Les mains ne se ressemblent pas. Les mains des gens, bien sûr. Mais celles appartenant à une seule et même personne aussi. Si j’en suis certaine, c’est que j’ai fait ma petite recherche. Surtout chez l’esthéticienne. J’ai souvent glissé mon regard sur les mains des autres afin de les comparer. Pour un but scientifique pur. Bien sûr.
Personnellement, mes mains ne se ressemblent pas du tout. Tant dis que ma main gauche s’allonge maigre, longue, blanche, élégante, hautaine et paresseuse, ma main droite, elle, est au boulot. Les doigts de ma main droite sont légèrement tordus par des années d’écriture, d’exposés sur papier canson, d’examens de droit qui s’étalaient sur plusieurs heures, de prises de notes rapides dont dépendait la vie, de croquis ratés sur un bloc note de wanna-be-artiste, de mots d’amour gribouillés sur des post it fluo, de lettres interminables écrites sur du papier léger finalement jamais envoyées.