A Jbeil person

I stood there alone, in the middle of downtown Beirut, waiting for an sms from someone whom I've never met before. It was something that had to do with citizen journalism, and much more. I had just finished registering for learning Spanish courses. I finally did it.

I did not mind standing there, I tend to do it, to gaze aimlessly. She was wearing heels, and she kicked the football towards the kid, it was a bad kick, I could do better, but still, it was a nice gesture, I mean she was wearing heels. I saw it, the expression on her face, she
was so proud of herself and so happy.

I looked to my right, there was the army dude, I think he kept observing me, because I did look suspicious, starring at everyone,staying put, and checking my mobile phone every minute.

Downtown is not what it used to be, it's different. I couldn't really put my finger on what changed that really affected me, let's just call it, a feeling of unfamiliarity, of strangeness. I remember I used to love this place. I felt like I don't belong. It's okay I guess, I am a Jbeil person.