Childhood Memories 14 - Beirut 2. (Digital Download - 4000 X 6000 Pix)
The streets of Beirut I grew up in were quiet but alive, their worn cobblestones and weathered walls telling stories of their own. The faded white facades cast uneven shadows, and a lone tree would stretch over the corner, offering shade that felt familiar.
A stray cat always lingered, watching as life passed by. The muted tones of white, grey, and brown weren’t just the colors of the city; they were the backdrop to our memories. Beirut’s streets weren’t just places they were home.
The streets of Beirut I grew up in were quiet but alive, their worn cobblestones and weathered walls telling stories of their own. The faded white facades cast uneven shadows, and a lone tree would stretch over the corner, offering shade that felt familiar.
A stray cat always lingered, watching as life passed by. The muted tones of white, grey, and brown weren’t just the colors of the city; they were the backdrop to our memories. Beirut’s streets weren’t just places they were home.
The streets of Beirut I grew up in were quiet but alive, their worn cobblestones and weathered walls telling stories of their own. The faded white facades cast uneven shadows, and a lone tree would stretch over the corner, offering shade that felt familiar.
A stray cat always lingered, watching as life passed by. The muted tones of white, grey, and brown weren’t just the colors of the city; they were the backdrop to our memories. Beirut’s streets weren’t just places they were home.