Two Balustrades

Here and there. Wire wrapped, curtain swept, paint-faded, weather worn.

They're quite a pair.

A Little of Everything

Let's see, what'll it be today? Deteriorating walls, crazy wires, pipes akimbo, that awesome metal roof stuff, balcony curtains, peeling-paint shuttered windows?

All of the above.

In the Alleyway

I stepped into an alleyway, turned back the way I'd came and looked up. Such simple actions, everyday, mundane.

It's a big city. Maybe someday, I will have stepped through every alleyway, turned back along every path I've walked to look around and consider where I came from.

Someday.

Nobody's Favorite

I don't like air conditioners, particularly these. They're in the way. That balcony is small enough without sacrificing space to AC units.

And you know what they remind me of? They remind me of Hal, from 2001: A Space Odyssey. Hal's nobody's favorite character, especially once he starts to malfunction.

Just about the only thing I remember about Hal is that he apologized a lot in his predictably uninflected AI voice. And in the end, he lost.

Now that I think of it, I'd love to get an apology from my AC unit. We could start with "I'm sorry for operating inefficiently". "I'm sorry for being so noisy". "I'm sorry about that time I broke down last summer". And we'd finish up with "I'm sorry for being appallingly ugly on the side of a beautiful building".

But, just like Hal, the AC's apologies are empty, meaningless, and it will carry on just as before.

Agape

I see two eyes, one winking and a big mouth gaping open.


Shocking! It's going to eat me up.

Somewhat Unusual

Reddish wall, green doors and plants. And textures, textures everywhere. I like how the white is really clean looking, bright and unbroken.

The squarish design in the iron balustrade is somewhat unusual in Beirut, which makes it all the more interesting to me.

Like the Sky, Like the Sea

Ah, blue. Such wonderful associations. This is a calm picture, a picture for a quiet day at home, taking advantage of every little bit of serenity.

It makes me happy just thinking about it.

I've tagged a bunch of Beirut Pursuit photos that show street lamps.  You can see that group of posts by clicking here. 

The Perfect Yellow

A few years ago I had paint chips propped up on the window ledge in my living room. All of them within a few shades of this:

I was looking for the perfect yellow, something like an orange tinged lemon or a really yellowy butter or an egg tart if you bumped up the saturation.

Live With It

Wires. In Beirut, you live with them. No getting around it. Might as well line them up, compose them as part of your image.

It's just that sometimes, I wish I didn't have to.

To Read

I should read photos the way other people read palms. I'd look at the lines, study the wrinkles and recesses. Feel the texture, consider the pliability and color of it.

I wouldn't forget proportion or scale or relative flatness or roundness. I'd read that photo carefully, slowly, looking for signs and warnings, ominous forbiddings and hopeful protections.

And after contemplating it long enough, I'd tell you exactly what it means.

Beneath the Wires

The sky was clear and bright, and I liked this view coming from Achrafieh toward downtown. 

The bell tower belongs to St. Elie-St. Gregory the Illuminator Armenian Patriarchal Cathedral

Sunny Picture, Rainy Day

It's cold and rainy out. Not a very nice day to go looking for a picture. Instead, here's one from yesterday, a day that was clear and sunny.

Maybe when the sun comes out again I'll post a picture of the rain.

No Place

Oh, Beirut.

There's no place quite like it.

Rain, Rain

It's rainy, rainy, rainy lately. But before the rain started, I was out with my camera, looking for the usual suspects.

And you know, if you're looking for something that's what you'll probably find.

Can't Decide

Looking at this entryway, I feel conflicted. I'm not quite sure what it's telling me. Perhaps it's that it has seen better days.

Or, maybe it's saying that the best yet to come.

It could be both, though it takes a little effort to marry those ideas.

A Lot Going On

This is a photo that I unabashedly love and for so many reasons. It's full to bursting with lines pulled in every possible direction. We've got wires ascending and wires descending, they're hanging and swaying, snaking up the wall, falling back on themselves, draping, cascading, bunching here, stretching there. And then there's the radiant mid-day sun casting hard-edged shadows everywhere.

And then there's how typical all of this is here in Beirut. The street light, the yellow electric pole, the generally French architecture of nearly every building from this era. It's a lovely, lovely thing.

Keeping it Simple on Sunday

It's Sunday, and today we're keeping it simple. Tomorrow we aren't. It'll be my birthday and I'm having a party.

I share my birthday with an eclectic range of people: Condoleezza Rice, Prince Charles, King Hussein of Jordan, Veronica Lake, Senator Joseph McCarthy, Aaron Copland, and Claude Monet.

Zoom In, Zoom Out

Zoom in. Focus on one small piece

of a bigger picture. Zoom out


to see where it belongs.

Tell-Tale

Lately, I'm drawn to monochromes like a child to sweets. I have a tendency to overindulge. 

Yesterday, while the rain was still at bay, I wandered around Beirut looking for a satisfactorally washed out something-or-other. Anything would do; a window, a door, a balcony. I was looking for a color fading just so. I found one. I found many. Beirut is generous like that.

This wall has been patched--the dark grey is tell-tale. It could be that once upon a year the stucco flaked off, or it could have been worse. It could have been a structural problem that required deeper, more invasive, more substantial correction.

Corbels in Tripoli

It's been a while since the last time we visited Tripoli. We didn't have a map and not much of an agenda, other than to find the Souk. So, for a little while we wandered through town, just looking around.

We passed this little street. It was so ornate that I had to stop for a few photos.