the people of my heart
and mloukhiyyeh ...
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2007
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February
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- Broken Letters ...Her,Because she's mourning a lov...
- Pack your heart and leave your memories behind tra...
- The city of my heart ...the people of my heart
- The weather these daysGha2em joz2iyan …I miss you ...
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- Remember L.?"Mirvat:About a week ago I got an emai...
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February
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19 comments:
.......
we will...only if we want to..
a big hug..
I LOVED this post :)
:) ykhallilik yeha ya rab
siti makes meluhia every friday for us..
in the summer she spends countless nights destalking the leaves and rinsing them and drying them on cloth in the pantry..
grinding them to a mince 2 days later and then freezing packets for the winter so we can enjoy it all year round..
we make it with turkey and chicken.. we break dark bread into it and drop in spoonfulls of homemade shatta..
it is the one dish that brings my entire family together..
.. indeed, home is where the heart is..
For some reason, it reminds me of a poem by Saiid Akel:
.. from the little country we roam the earth..
.. in every spot we spread our villages..
.. we defy the world peoples and countries..
.. and build wherever we want.. A Lebanon
Our country is but a dream, a heart beat, a scent, a tune, and a night full of love... 10452 are but a window pane...Our home is metaphysical, beyond borders, beyond oceans.
Take good care of yourself, and mitil ma wada3ti tla2i.
big hug from me too gitanes
thanks am
achinar we ykhallilik your family :)
lirun, we made mlukhiyya with packaged leaves that we found here in an arabic supermarket and it tasted nothing like the leaves they carefully dry back home.
Fadi, how you've been? lovely words..
beautiful mirvat and so tender... maybe islands only find peace in love: of parents, countries, lovers or children...
It is true that we are islands in this life, our destiny is to try to build bridges....Humans invented ceelphones, emails and even weblogs to try to build virtual bridges, but seems not enough to have peace; so continue looking for the pieces for they are the building blocks of your real bridges...
sahtayn :)
isnt that funny.. that while we're busy "arguing" our mothers and grandmothers mirror each other as they peacefully and gently separate leaves (as they have done for generations) to make sure we have that savoury syropy spinach looking soul drenching soup..
in pure anticipation of our sounds of content when we have that first slurp..
:)
beautiful, mirvat... my mother does that too (leaving notes around) but with little sketches, it is heartbreaking sometimes
happy mommy to you.
something has happened to our blogger friend transient--go and look--go and look--sound the alarm--sound the alarm
Nostalgic dreams of favored cityscapes and loved ones, damn Mirvat, you sure do know how to tug the heart strings. Hope it never ends.
and mloukhiah is not spinach.
mirvat... it's been a while. missed reading and commenting here.
this is a super sweet post.
very DELICATE!
allah ykhallilik yeha ya rabb.
PS:
I hate mouloukhiyye :(
transient.. heheh
ana aref..
but i described it as spinachy for those who have never had or seen any..
i should probably add for those people that it also doesnt have the same bitterness.. its slightly tangier..
dude.. i have grown up on the soup..
z: you hurt me with your words hehe
Hey welcome back ya 7elou :)
I am touched... I have been living in london for 3 years now and I know how it feels to be far, to be haunted by desire and nostalgia.
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