Salam Peace Paix Shalom, PACE!

Come tutti saprete, ieri pare sia stata presa una decisione importante, accettata, almeno a voce, sia da Israele che da Nasrallah che da Fouad Siniora e Libano.
Dalle 8 di domani le armi taceranno: manteniamo ancora un po' di incredulita' e circospezione, ma siamo confidenti che sia finalmente giunto il momento di far tacere aerei e cannoni e pensare solo a rimboccarsi le maniche per andare in soccorso dei villaggi al Sud e poi ricostruire il Libano.
Ci piace pensare che in questo processo abbiamo contribuito anche noi, sì, già solo con l'informazione a vasta scala a sopperire le mancanze dei media occidentali che troppe volte ce ne forniscono una "ovattata" o distorta.
Noi ci siamo e continueremo con il nostro piccolo contributo di sensibilizzazione informativa, e non ci fermeremo a provare a dare una mano ai coraggiosi come Sawsan e gli altri fratelli libanesi con tutto il cuore, abbracciando in questo l'appello del simpatico giovanotto nella foto in alto :)

Grazie ancora a voi e buone vacanze a tutti...nonostante la pioggia di questi giorni ;)

Just done!

Dearest Sawsan,
as i told you in advance in my sms, am glad to inform you i've just officially ordered my bank
BANCA CARIME
AGENZIA CENTRALE
MATERA IT
to issue a credit to your account at HSBC Bank Middle East equal to
€ 1.600 ( = 2.063 USD)
cause: "From Italy to Lebanon, gli Amici di Sawsan"
where by "Amici di Sawsan" i mean:
- Rosanna
- Giovanni
- Antonio
- Anti
- Franco
- Simone
- Leandro & Serena
- Fam.Sabino
- Pietro
- Rosamaria
- Anna & Giorgio
- Isa
- Silvio
- Fran
- Peppe
Our cyberactivism :) along with the large helpful activity of Sawsan...ehm...Susanna & c. :) maybe will not alter the course of this war, but it will result essential for Lebanon's recovery.

Forza Libano
(po-po-po-po-po-pooo-pooooooo)
:)
-peppe-
---

prayer for all men of good will:
May I ask you God to fortify our faith… to increase our trust… so that we don't feel helpless…?
May I ask you God to come, and finish this war against you and the humanity you made one day…?

Varese demonstration - 6 Aug

Photos of last demonstration taken place at the railway station in Varese, near the Malpensa airport of Milano.
The demonstration took place last sunday and i was surprised to know there's a big community of lebanese in Varese as well :)
Once again, Peace and Lebanon flags together...

Restez au Liban

Pour les premières amandes vertes que l'on croque, trempées de sel, et qui sonnent le glas de l'hiver,
Pour l'arbuste du balcon que l'on croyait mort et qui refleurit inexplicablement en décembre,
Pour le grincement familier de la balançoire sur laquelle on s'assoupit, enivrés de soleil, dans le chant des cigales,
Pour les klaxons « sauvages » d'un mariage d'été qui nous précipite pourtant tous au balcon pour voir si la mariée est belle,
Pour ces tribus de parents qui attendent à l'aéroport le retour au pays de l'enfant prodigue, et qui arrivent toujours beaucoup trop tôt,
Pour cette vieille mémé qu'on a refusé de mettre à l'asile malgré l'appartement de Beyrouth trop étroit, et que son fils continue d'embrasser chaque soir,
Pour cette femme voilée qui fait, au mois de mai, le pèlerinage de Harissa,
Pour le jeune policier du carrefour qui fait semblant de rêver quand on traverse un feu orange,
Pour le « Ya hala » claironnant du steward qui nous accueille sur l'avion de Beyrouth,
Pour cet automobiliste souriant en trois pièces cravate qui, un soir de Nouvel An très pluvieux, vous change votre pneu, sans vous rien demander
Pour ce soleil lumineux de janvier qui nous fait douter que la tempête terrifiante de tout à l'heure ait vraiment eu lieu,
Pour la voix si triste de Feyrouz qui réveille en nous une âme enfouie de villageoise d'opérette,
Pour l'odeur de la « mankouché » du matin qui est bien plus qu'une galette au thym, comme la traduit bêtement le dictionnaire,
Pour ces cerises de juin si noires qu'elles colorent de violet les langues des enfants,
Pour la maison d'en haut qu'on fait plus belle que l'autre, parce que c'est là qu'au soir de notre mort, on accueillera les gens du village,
Pour les soirs de juin sur la terrasse, pour la vigne de septembre qui finit par nous offrir une grappe, pour les gardénias de mai,
Pour l'odeur mouillée de la terre après la première pluie,
Pour ne pas avoir froid, pour ne pas avoir peur, pour ne pas vivre seul, pour...
Pour tout cela ..... Restez au Liban!
Allons au Liban!

In Beirut,
there’s something, like that, just like that…
Stuck in the air, printed on the walls of small roads,
Dripping little by little from the trees right after the rain…

There’s something that makes my foreign friend drive recklessly and ignore the traffic lights. Something that makes him tell me about some of our places. Places that I haven’t had the chance to see and colors I couldn’t understand. He starts understanding the difference between mjadarra and mdardara, he starts talking politics, he loves Fairuz even when he doesn’t understand a word she says. He starts building a house in the mountain, where he would spend the rest of the summer. And sometimes, so many times, he would get carried away and say: “Us Lebanese will never learn…”

In Beirut,
there’s something that makes him love her more than i do…
There’s always a shortcut road that takes you to the sea. There are always cameras taking pictures, fearing that the eye would forget, fearing that the heart would drift…
There’s a road built just to carry your dream, while you walk, not knowing where.
There’s something in people’s eyes, like a question, like the old buildings, like an escaping look, like the ruin.

In Beirut,
there’s a secret that you don’t know until you’re at the airport with your bag… until you’re estranged stranded in young cities, one after the other, forever longing to your crude city, the city where “the difference between the darkness and the light is one word”… And you miss the familiar chaos where the cars park on sidewalks and people strut in the middle of the streets… And forever, for as much as you hide away, you’re haunted with the fever of Beirut, and you know the illness is part of you and you know that she will never leave you.

In Beirut,
There’s something bigger than me, and bigger than you. There’s an April that never ends. And a place, a place that, whenever you lose yourself, whenever you fall, whenever you hurt, you come back whispering the letters of its name once anew, in Beirut.

In Beirut, there’s something, like that, just like that…
Stuck in the air, printed on the walls of small roads,
Dripping from the trees after the rain…