My Libya is a wonder of the world
My Libya is heat, humidity, rain, and floods
My Libya is a sky dressed in diamonds, fields of bright yellow daisies
My Libya is a Sahara so vast, an ocean so deep, a city so populated
My Libya is majestic mountains filled with caves in need of discovery
My Libya is unpaved roads, and high pillared villas
My Libya is the old man reclining on a plastic chair, hands wrinkled, skin sun kissed, whispering prayers of forgiveness with each delicate turquoise prayer bead.
My Libya is the old woman with the shy smile, dazzling eyes that tease, tar black kohl, sitting on perfectly gold embroidered mats, telling stories of her mischievous youth.
My Libya is the young boy, sun blazing atop, golden skin glistening, playing soccer under the arch of Marcus Aurelius', once, a symbol of roman triumph, today, the young boy's triumph, as he salutes his imaginary fans with each goal made.
My Libya is the young girl with hair perfectly braided, eyes as mysterious as the sand dunes of the desert, impatiently tugging at her mama and baba, pulling them towards the stallion in the square.
My Libya is the young couple on the corniche losing track of all time, drowning in one another, the Romeo and Juliet, Layla and Majnoon, Antar and Abla of our day
My Libya is 7 nights and 7 days of festivities,weddings till dusk.
My Libya is the ululating of women and the laughter of men-
necklaces made of jasmine and rose water in the air-
fireworks color the sky, and the perfect rhythm of the tabla surround...
My Libya is the eerily calm and quiet streets every Friday
and the echoing voice which breaks that silence, calling to prayer 5 times a day.
The high minarets reaching the heavens, beautifully tiled floors, calligraphy drowning the ceiling, chandeliers so dazzling, the imams voice gently reading the word's of God
My Libya is Fairouz in the morning, and a divine chocolate hazelnut filled baryoosha
My Libya is traffic and the scent of burning tobacco.
My Libya is music filled cafes and crowded colorful bazaars.
My Libya is juicy watermelons, ripe figs, sweet mangoes, grapes as large as rubies.
My Libya is laughter, bliss, color, life, strength, tears, fury...imperfectly perfect.
My Libya is my very own love story, without an end
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