Beyrouth – My Unsuitable Man
After yesterday’s bombing in Beirut, again, I remembered this old post which just sums up the fragility all over again.
It was a dangerous love from the second I set eyes on you. Everyone knew it could never last.
You had been fascinating me from afar for years, like the intoxicating whisper of a stranger who knows he can thrill. I knew you were daring me to touch you, to come close to you and to feel the heat of your breathe on my exposed neck. And when I finally landed in your arms, my cheeks flushed with excitement, you enveloped me with the passion of a man who I knew could never keep a single promise. But still, I came towards you, heady with the adventure of an eastern land, knowing that you were what my mother would call an “unsuitable man”: The kind of man who blames the telephone lines for failing to call, a man who has so many versions of the truth that he can never…
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