come back my love

At dawn, you are a pigeon cooing on the balcony of that old house in that crowded neighborhood. In the morning you are a cup of coffee in a senior’s hand on the corniche where he jogs. During the afternoon you are a school bus ride in the eyes of a child who dreams of a better tomorrow. In the evening you are a leaflet promoting a gig featuring talented boys and girls who rehearse on your streets and in your theaters. At night you are the smell of the plates and the sound of the news in the houses of the citizens.
Beirut, we’re bringing you back.
You’re ours, and they can’t take you away.

Photo credit unknown – yet.



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