Writing
November is National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo for short. Starting tomorrow, I put up my “Do Not Disturb” sign and for thirty days and nights retire to an undisclosed location with my nose to the grindstone (and my fingers to the keyboard) as I tap tap tap away 50,000 words worth of character development, plots, subplots, twists and turns that should coalesce into a novel.
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Architecture
A house is stranded on a hillside in Achrafieh between Geitawi and Bourj Hammoud. Between the growling highway and meandering staircase. Between innards of shattered glass and vistas of painted sails. Between longgone yesterdays and notyet tomorrows. Stranded between here and nowhere.
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