August 4 Beirut explodes and reveals the abyss of the economic and political crisis.
Nazo, Georges, Manel, Mariam, Emilias, I came across these suspended lives in Beirut as close to an abyss. Where one feels that one would have to know how to fly to get out of this bad step, this nightmare.
The mother is torn to pieces, the father tells his child not to cry and to help him bandage his mother whose back of the eye is visible through the temple that has been slashed by a glass blade. "Come on, let's go save Mommy." The grandmother talks to me about that, blessing God for keeping her alive. Then she tells me about a century of their Armenian life. Children who were sold and then protected, a never-ending story. Farther on, Syrian refugees have moved their living rooms outside and are trying to bring the internet back. The facades of their houses are on the ground. All around the buildings are deserted. No demonstrations today. They tell us that there is too much to do. And also fear. It is difficult from a distance, even knowing the country, to realize the lives, the individual stories that will remain forever tormented.
Hearing the first explosion, Ely grabbed his elderly mother to carry her to the bathroom. He put her face against the toilet lid and positioned himself above her. Located exactly in front of the explosion, the violence of the blast threw them through the bathroom despite the multiple walls. Her mother is in intensive care. When he leaned over her he found her with her tongue at the back of her throat.
The Lebanese are still going back to the streets, they denounce the corruption of politicians, the management of the economic crisis, the system of confessional politics...