By Joy Yammine

I took this picture on the 20th of November 2018, while walking from Riad el Soleh to The Egg. I decided to post it today, after the 2nd month anniversary of our Thawra.
This was written in front of the old theatre. When I read it, it felt like one of those dreams we have but know they won’t come true, a dream so big that no one would even try to chase it. I thought about the person who wrote it, a person whose heart is full of anger and disgust over this country’s corrupt leaders, but who can’t find any other way to express himself, and to feel this sense of revolution, because I am sure that each and every one of us, this time last year, would have never believed that a revolution this beautiful would happen this year.
But miracles happen. They do.
When I look back at the past two month, I can’t help but remember the 18th of October, the first day I went to the streets, the day I realized how much this country really means to me and how much I have taken it for granted for the past 20 years. I can’t help but remember my mother’s smile when I took her with me to Martyrs’ square. The old man who I gave my flower to. Him telling me that I’m prettier than any flower out there. The little kid on his father’s shoulders. Ali playing with me next to the mosque. The women’s march. Climbing on the road signs. The candles. Riad el Solh. My friends dancing with the little kids in Downtown. The tetas. The Jeddos. Baabda. The morning cleanups. The songs. The ring. The “Ya3tik l 3afye”s. The daily walks to and from Gemayze. The speeches. The liars. The pigs. The corrupt pigs. The first time I went up on The Egg’s and the theatre’s roofs. My Thawra family. The rain. The suicides. The people. The sounds. The smells. The love. The martyrs. Every little detail. I can’t help but remember every fucking little detail. And I fall in love with our Thawra over and over again.
OUR Thawra. The people’s Thawra, the one everyone was waiting for. The one that lights a spark in everyone’s heart. The one that’s not allowing us to sleep at night. The one that’s showing us that there’s still a little hope and humanity in this world. The one someone was dreaming of since god knows when, and wrote ثورة in the heart of our country. A heart that’s been dead for so long and has been trying so hard to come back to life. And it did, it finally did, thanks to our Thawra.
So today I won’t wish our Thawra a happy 2 months anniversary, because our Thawra has been alive for so many years now in the hearts of the people who really love our Lebanon, and it just spread its wings 2 months ago.
So here’s to many more days and weeks and months and years of flying, till we reach the stars.