As long as I remember, when I still lived in Lebanon, my father would sit by the fireplace at our home at the foot of the mountain and on cold days continuously feed wood to the hungry fire and watch its raging flames and listen to its crackling sounds as it vanished into ashes.
It always made me think that there is a romantic in there hiding behind his seemingly hard exterior that he presented to the world.
The last 3 days, and in the middle of a storm here in Germany, our heating system broke down, so as we shuffle to get it fixed, I started using the fireplace as a means of generating warmth on these very cold days.
And guess what? I find myself as hypnotized by it as my father was and still is at over 85 years of age.
Life sometimes turns full circle on us…
