Right before my grandmother passed way, she told me that if she ever was to make it out of the hospital the last place she would visit once more was Beirut.
She didn’t make it.
So I did, and I took her with me. She may not see Beirut again, but Beirut will see her one last time.
Installed in a war torn Qarantina, with the help of Reem and my friends selling watermelons by the side of the road.
