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To Beirut, with love...

On one of my walks through the streets of Beirut, I encountered an artisan jewelry shop, an irresistible little hole in the wall. It was inevitable that we'd go in... I gravitated towards a pair of earrings that were engraved: "Ana min Beirut (I am from Beirut)", to the objection of my dear companion. "You are not from Beirut. You are the daughter of the mountain. Your ancestors have been there for generations." "I am not from Beirut?" I paused for a minute and thought. Who or what defines who we really are and where we are from? Is it the nucleus of our ancestors or the name of a place jotted down hastily by an indifferent official on a piece of paper? Yes, I am the proud daughter of the Lebanese mountains. But I am also from Beirut, I am from all the places I love, all the places that make me who I am.

I am from this Earth and this Earth is from me. To Beirut, with love...

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