Today I bury my head under water to cry in the Mediterranean. Today is a sad day for love, for snipers, for new beginnings but Beirut is oblivious to that. Beirut is witnessing the grand opening of a new hip bar on the rooftop of a building that probably saw once brothers killing each other. I have respect for buildings that resist our Lebanese amnesia. I can see one now from under the water. It was built illegally right on the edge of the sea by militiamen who terrorized my childhood, kidnapped my father and pointed Kalashnikov at our tiny heads. The same one that you took a photo of once, remember?