Dusty Wyndow Blog

What's happening this moment is just stunning to me, riding the bus back to Tripoli is officially the only me time there ever was recently. Bus ride back home, Beirut towards Tripoli I once criticized a friend/manager I worked with in the past for being himself and having some personal time only on the airplane, all while traveling to another busy destination with the same hectic schedule as ever. I never thought, at this age at least, that I would turn the same, exactly the same. It's come to a point where my friend recently jokingly called me schizophrenic, for failing to remember an appointment we had in a couple days and having spoken about it the day before. Little did she know that I totally lost it: the ability to concentrate in details is having a picnic, far away from where I am. Taken at Istanbul airport What makes it worse is the fact that my character forces me to be somewhat passive, which automatically drives me to avoid activeness as much as possible and

It's the night I was able to stand in the Nour Roundabout so freely. It's the night this place was car-free. It's the night a prayer was held at the center of the Roundabout. It's the night hundreds of people felt joy at this place rather than being anxious whether to cross the fire lit there or not. It's the night a bunch of white-hearted Tripolitans took the initiative of throwing the first mass iftar at the center of my home town, Tripoli. The mass iftar viewed from the 15th floor, at the center of Tripoli, Lebanon. It was noon when I first passed by the place and saw couple of my friends there getting all busy preparing for the big event, 6 hours earlier. I arrived there exactly 6:30, the place was already packed. The sight of the roundabout being closed from afar reminded me of the time I had to avoid the burning tires and the raging thugs that have taken it as a habit to come and close the square preventing people from going home and forcing shops to close