Wednesday, November 7, 2012

beirut just expired for me, Draft #1

i would like to dedicate this blog post to a city that just ended. a city where i met my best friends. a city where i read books i would have otherwise hidden. a city hosting the bed of my first sex. a city where i got stuck in an elevator and couldn't explain myself to a first love. a city of my long walks, our long walks, her tunnels, alleys, abandoned buildings and the corniche. a city where we got drunk on rooftops, and high on ground floors. a city where i first lived alone. a city where i first lived with friends. a city of weekends where we would cook in my yellow kitchen, drinking leftovers of booze from my book signing. my first book. a city that invited me to write of its erotica.

i dedicate this aimless post of closure to a place that was home for a while, but not anymore. i dedicate it to the illusion of bliss, by lovers, by stories, by things. i leave it as an open wound that would never cicatrize. i will come back, as tangible strolls down physical memory lanes, and if i ever come back to live it would be her or i who must have changed.

i leave with no shreds of remorse, as i thought i would have. i leave dry. i leave full. i stand almost confused at my readiness to leave. i always hated packing, for somehow i must have never started packing with the luggage inside. 

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