My first sunset in the village. Wonderful.

Hardy. Living in dry soil with salt water nearby. Hardy.

Day thirteen: ”I have an olive tree.” My father bought our house after reading a children’s book with this title. The story talks about a Greek immigrant family loosing their roots. And the grandfather giving the granddaughter an olive tree for her birthday just before he died. She went to go see it, and put his worry beads in its branches. In the end, after a long journey she finally realizes that she, too, is Greek. And that she has a bit of their soil that belongs to her. 

My dad bought our house, and this olive tree (that you see the branches in front) because he wanted this to not just be a vacation place that we got bored with, that we didn’t understand that language or have any friends in. 

He wanted this place to be ours. So he bought a house. And an olive tree. 

andrewsawyer:

General Coordination of SUBA

Library Services Unit.

Fabiola G. Terrazas

Aguilar, Y. (2010)

(Source: insufferablemetahipster, via lustik)

Dear Muhmmad. 

I trust that mama Al-Rawi is keeping you safe. 

Please be safe.

lifeinaffliction:

Day Twelve: A summer in photos:

My dear Maria,

My cousins have been driving me around the cities these past few nights. For the post part, life is as usual for most. But there is the constant reminder that there is chaos waiting to happen at any place at any moment. At night, the highways are fitted with checkpoints with bright flood lights and many police and military vehicles parked. They’re looking for suspicious cargo: tires, petrol and LP tanks… Anything that can be set fire. What the protesters do here is lock a road with tires and light them with petrol. Early this morning, a major roundabout was closed because it was set ablaze. During the day, you can see where the asphalt is burned, and where fires have been extinguished. From the roof of my home, I can see smoke bellowing from the highways sometimes. I haven’t managed to photograph a fire, but it’s a goal. 

Another thing they do is spray paint things like “Death to King Hamed” on homes and businesses. (That’s a photo to come as well.) Many paint over the writing, only to return the next day to find it rewritten.

I’ve heard from my family that protesters have tried burning down villas of our friends. One with a Molotov cocktail, the other with a LP tank, which blew a hole in the wall of their home. In both cases, No one really got hurt or anything. Besides, it’s hard to burn down a concrete and steel building…

The government is building fences along the highways to deter protesters escape into the desert. Not too far from my home, the roads that grant access to the homes of the widows of sheikhs have been barricaded by the police to protect the women and children. 

They take your camera here if the police catch you taking photos of them, because they think you’ll use the photos against them. I’m glad I bright a telephoto lens. 

It’s an interesting environment here. The minority religion is being threatened by the majority religion, but the minority holds the government and military. It’s interesting how in the mist of random chaos, life goes on, as of nothing ever happened. It’s an environment of imperceptible hostility.

Day 13.

The greeting crew. Thanks house.

Day 12.

SO SO SO SORRY I’M LATE. I was flying from Istanbul to Athens, we got in so late, so we missed the first bus. Then we took the second bus, which dropped us off in a near city at around 3 a.m.

Then we drove in our luggage in our friend’s truck he uses to transport eels.

Then we went to bed, late….

So this photo is a picture of the sunset from the bus (or KTEL .. as you can see written backwards.)

Glad to be home.

i <3 this face.