Dusty Wyndow Blog

Waking up today after -finally- a decent sleep shaking off the thrill of the last two days has left me in such an awe, not realizing anytime before the amount of encouragement we are receiving, the thumbs up and the curious ones wanting openly to join us next time. Long story short, as an immediate result of my early morning sluggishness, we had decided, we as in a bunch of fellow white-hearted friends, to carry on the clown flashmob habit that started in 2013 by Mutaz Salloum, as a concrete reaction to the horrible tremor that was taking place in Jabal Mohsen & Tebbaneh, both of which areas now are thankfully in a state of peace after a political resolute earlier last year. We invaded both towns regardless of the warnings and all the threats. They were a blast, a total success. Fast forward to 2015, Maya Abas and a bunch of enthusiasts that gathered from all over the country, literally, had also taken their toll on both Haret el Tanak (literally the tin neighborhood) and Dahr el ...

Our first Volunteer, Mr. Michel from Koura. Picture by Rimal Abeed. Being severely brought down by all the notorious stench in the air the last few weeks, the three of us had decided to do something about it. Just as any other activity in Trablos, things had happened so spontaneously and smoothly. Discussions have been taking place for almost a month before that, but never were more serious than the week before, where we managed to borrow a guitar for Rimal to practice with, Moussa would practice his drawing skills, and I would prepare basically everything else in order to have a smooth chillout time for everybody, and offer people something they were craving for, I assume. I wonder to myself sometimes, what have we got in this, all of us? It’s neither Rimal, Moussa or le moi that are getting paid anything for taking that action (something society fiercely teaches you in order to survive), neither are we taking any credit, any promotion, not even appraisal. And the photos & sto...

A couple months ago and right after losing my daytime job, I approached my dear old friends at Deghri Messengers to join them aboard ever since I was drooling to do that ages ago. In no time, I officially became a proud Deghri Messenger, I had my own messenger backpack, my receipt notebook and a whole lot more stationary and accessories that would make one a Deghri messenger, that’s of course besides the bike and helmet. To all those to whom the word “Deghri” doesn’t ring any bell, here’s a snippet: “We deliver things by bicycle. Our service is fast, reliable and good value. Businesses and organisations all over Beirut rely on us to respond to their urgent delivery needs reliably and with a smile.” Deghri Messengers is a bike messenger service in Beirut. They deliver all kinds of stuff around the city using only bicycles and the power of their own bodies. It's hard work and takes a special mix of fitness, passion for cycling, city orientation and pure guts. Bike Messenger...

It is not usually that hard to remember the bits and details of an overwhelmingly happy night. Walkabout Drum Circle and friends gathered the night before at EM Chill pub in Mar Mikhael for yet another outstanding African rhythms performance, and to bid farewell to Tom Harris, therapeutic drumming instructor and veteran Djembe player, who came all the way from Atlanta to share along his deep knowledge. It was the night I was at my happiest. Allow me first to break the common rule of spreading out thank yous at the end (don’t get me wrong, I’ll do it eventually), but it’s just that I really feel so grateful at this moment. Thank you Jade and Walkabout Drum Circle for one unforgettable night. I still am not able to remember a single dull moment, a detail that pissed me off, a thing I didn't feel comfortable about. In fact, my day yesterday was so dreadful I couldn't’t smile all day long, yet, there was the night with the Walkabout. You guys made my week! Alright, time f...

The Tripoli Film Festival Committee representatives welcomed us at the entrance of the city complex venue, where [ Journey of stars into the dark night ] by Arnel Mardoquio was scheduled to play as part of the film festival that day, Friday November 15 th 2013. The place was packed, friends have come over together in groups, families as well, couples and enthusiasts from all around Tripoli only for the sake of watching that renowned 117-minute movie. It was the free entrance that I found most serviceable, for it was convenient and an added value to the residents of this poor town. How lovely would it be to read this kind of review about the film festival in Tripoli? First paragraph is a lie, oh no wait, I’d better say It was my personal vision of what I had wanted to see, my own aspiration, my expectations toward the event the moment I knew about it, regardless of my frustration at the organizers and the absolute lack of coverage and exposure for the festival. In fact, what happene...

Never thought I'd admit this, but here we go, this is officially the most emotional bday I ever had. I was surprised in the most amazing ways, I was shocked in the loveliest manners, I was moved like never before. From my coworkers' little surprise(s) to Rayyan's messages, I felt like the world was paying me back. A collage of the pics I spent my morning taking :) I love them all, for everything they did. For the rush of Suha printing the poster that last minute after asking me about a photography quote I liked best. For the remembrance and possibly the overwhelming thoughts of what to do that Rayyan went through till she finally sent me those memorable messages and eventually making me weep. For the effort some put into reading my last year's post and more importantly putting more effort into doing any sort of action. I love them all for the initiative they took, for the steps they did, wandering from colleague to another gathering money and thinking of what sor...

The aftermath, shot this morning. Last night was the night you'd smile for, such a peaceful, echoless evening. It was the type of night I'd obviously have to spend outside. What's so good about sleeping on the rooftop you ask? If it weren't sleeping to the clear black starry sky, then the chilly summer breeze should be tempting enough to drag you out of the warmth of your bedroom. Upon setting up the foldable bed we had, mattress and pillow, it was time for me to rest and enjoy the view. I love how, whenever I sleep outside, I get both sensations of becoming so warm on the body level, while head and hands are enjoying the summer breeze. It gives me a chance to play a little game before sleeping, where the goal is trying to equalize body temperature enough to the point where I could fall asleep :-) My companion whenever I sleep outside. Last thing I remember seeing was the starless sky above me, I remember closing my eyes and for the first time I shouted out m...

I sold my kindle just tonight, a few hours ago, the kindle I kept dreaming of having ever since I heard of it, for a bicycle in exchange, topped with a 40$ in difference. I failed at keeping it of use and therefore I sold it. At the same time, today Farzat, a great guy got back his bicycle, the bicycle I was supposed to buy (a good racing bike) but decided to return it at the last minute. My old camera, the Nikon D80 is on sale now, for a bundle worth 900$ at the moment, having the body along with two lenses. In return I now have the newer D7000 (that I barely got the chance to use) which I got from a Lebanese business man last week in Gemmayzeh, on the night at which he was supposed to fly to the US. I have now two bicycles, just as before; I have a new camera, just as before, but with the only difference of being a 1000$ richer. Yes, a 1000$ in 2 months, effectively in 2 weeks. This is business, this is making money out of substantially attractive deals and once-in-a-lifet...

Source:  Original Article The Last Confession was the straw that broke the camel's back: What I started on my previous post  was phenomenal, it was pretty obvious that I had to document it. If you're still unfamiliar with what I'm talking about, check the Anonymous Confessions blog post; I had announced I want to play a game, based on the work of an american artist. Source:  Anonymous Confessions The thread of confessions started out with the following: "I still love her" "İt hurts not to see him" "I do care about what people think of me" Several anonymous persons decided to join later on, upon seeing the first feedback, and thought it might be a good idea to throw in their own confession, since, in the end, everything was totally anonymous. The majority spoke of relationships, parents, self esteem, aspirations, and unfinished love stories. Until the last guest posted their comment : "Confession 1: I wish I can help everyone who...

It's one of those evenings that make me content with the choice I made over a year ago: to come back to Lebanon. Sara Sibai I had promised both poets I'd make them look like legends. Matter of fact they didn't need my help, they were there. I already hold deep admiration to Sara Sibai's performance. In fact I was just thinking of asking her later on to send me one of the poems she recited that night, but then, the idea got kicked out by the fact that a few lines won't simply do, I'd need a video recording, better yet, I'd need to watch her performing live. As for Omar, he shone like I've never seen a person shine before. I'm known for my bluntness, my abstention to compliment people; Omar was truly an energetic human, whose light was reflected within the letters of every word he recited. Omar BR I felt a bit uncomfortable though, embarrassed with the noise my camera's shutter kept making, such noise that broke the calamity of the eveni...