I'm half Lebanese, half South Asian. And for most of my life, I hid  the Lebanese half entirely.

It was never really part of my upbringing. I hadn't been to Lebanon for a long ass time  — until the last couple of years. But my mind always held memories of It . Memories of playing football in Mina and Tripoli. The manouche my tete made me. Playing on a old playstation  on a half broken TV praying the power wouldn't cut out. The sea wind on my face.

I've travelled a lot — Morocco, Mauritania, Japan, the Netherlands, and more. But nothing hit like Lebanon. The moment I arrived it didn't feel like a new place. It felt like recognition. Like a missing piece of my heart had finally come back. Every day I'm not there I feel it.

I miss Fairouz drifting from someone's window on an early morning walk in asseily. I miss the smell of manouche  in the morning. I miss the chaos of Beirut — the noise, the energy, the life. I miss the knefe, the fattoush, the late nights in Hamra talking to friends and strangers  if there even is such a concept of strangers in lebanon lol 

I miss driving into Beirut and seeing the skyline appear. I miss the random conversations with uncles stuck in traffic. I miss watching the sunset over the sea with the snow-capped mountains behind it. I miss the nightlife in mar mikel and the countless places to eat.

I miss all of it.

Lebanon gave me my identity back. It gave me a sense of pride and belonging I hadn't found anywhere else. One day I hope to move to Beirut, get fat off knefe, and just be happy.

Given everything happening right now, I just wanted to share what Lebanon means to me and the love I have for it.

I love Lebanon.

Live love 🇱🇧. Forever and always. 

Love letter to lebabon