The best part of every adventure is , for me, the coming back home moment. I always long to go but I long ever more to come back. Home is such a place of safety, recharge and warmth. When you are lucky enough to have someone there that you can’t wait to hug, then it’s only the icing on the cake.
Day 29 of 365
Images of my daughter as we played around with some lighting.
Another day ends and I sit here to write my thought before the clock ticks midnight. I chose this image from a New Delhi slum to remind those of us who have our comfortable homes and apartments to be thankful for all that we have.
Day 11 of 365
From the mega metropolis of 30 million to a quiet German neighborhood, from the 16th floor of a high-rise building to the lone house and garden, from the green polluted sky of shanghai to the intoxicatingly fresh air of the countryside… we find ourselves in a whole new ecosystem.
We took in a few fish to live in our small pond last week and since then they have been hiding as they get used to the new environment. We are not so different. I feel the urge to settle in and find my way in my new ecosystem.
Despite of all the change, something inside me is dancing in joy and wellbeing. Thank you Germany for the chance to be well and happy as we get ready to call you home.
I grew up in Lebanon, moved to New York City at the age of 20, have lived since in Boston, Miami, Germany, shanghai and now moving to Germany again. Like most expatriates I find myself at a loss of knowing where 'home' really is or if it exists at all…the age of 20, have lived since in Boston, Miami, Germany, shanghai and now moving to Germany again. Like most expatriates I find myself at a loss of knowing where 'home' really is or if it exists at all…
the certain nature of uncertainty
when the mask drops
The urban spirit
when you have seen more than your share
tales of fading glory
on the road for handouts
a page from the Beirut sketchbook
sleepless nights and random sketches
some stories are best left vague
his imaginary girlfriend
time to leave
Beirut, beautiful, sophisticated, artsy, dirty, confused, decadent, mismanaged and always pulls on my every hidden emotion.
searching for home~ Edinburgh
Ask me where I am from, where home is, and I find myself thinking before I answer you. This is the case for so many of us these days. We come from mixed race marriages, we leave our home countries, we live in a new place, we move again, we marry from yet another country and our children are left with a number of origins to choose from and call home. Recently someone asked my 7 year old niece where she was from, and she answered: “I am a Swiss/Lebanese/New Zealander and I live in UAE”, whereas my 9 year old daughter is a German/American/Lebanese who lives in China. Is this the face of new world citizenship and the age of planetary close connections and integration? I wonder…
worker in a Shanghai old alley
The thing about the future is that is seems to happen on time and not wait for us to be ready to receive it. And always things appear to be later than we think, don’t they?
Today I was with a friend on a photo walk in an old Shanghai neighborhood condemned to demolition and we saw that from week to week homes were being demolished leaving in the rubble, shoes, clothing, old furniture, toys… It would seem that people had very little time to pack up and leave their homes before they were destroyed and we wondered at the levels of stress this must have caused a family that lived there possibly all their lives. Change is often associated with pain, even if it was a change were seeking all along.
idolized by the people
What is it that makes us humans want to idolize someone and hold them high, look up to them, attribute super powers to them and be completely subjective about the whole affair? We do it with sports teams, with movie stars, with religious leaders and with politicians. Or do we sometimes do it from a sense of obligation or pier pressure?
home is where you laundry hangs~ Yanghsuo~ Guilin
No matter where we go, how far we travel, there will always be a tug to go back home, to a place where we can close our door to the world and be safely alone for a moment, a place where we can hang our laundry to dry.