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 A Conversation with Roy Dib on Blocking Roads, Chanting, and the Vicious Lebanese Political Cycle Roy Dib is an artist and filmmaker. But like everyone else who took to the streets on October 17, his “day job” took on a different description including specialized skills such as: blocking roads, organizing a group of activists, learning the ins and outs of pertinent revolution topics, and helping connect a network of revolutionaries in the squares. And like all things that began on October 17, ever-continuous spontaneity fed into the daily roil, including that of building the revolution-born Qantari group. Founded by Rawan Nassif,

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by Fouad M. Fouad, translated from the Arabic by Ola Abdulla 3 Our nightmares do not fit all this hell 4000 dead  Their terrified eyes leering at the emptiness of our souls Their stares clotting out of fear on the sidewalk   4000 dead How can the world fit all this wailing?    4000 dead in one month  20 thousand liters of tenebrous blood    “blood rivers” No longer a metaphor   6 We prepare for the worst, upcoming  Then the worst happens We’re perplexed  We’re shocked And we wallow  Then we begin again, Preparing for the worst, upcoming   12 The books are also refugees    Thousands of books arrived today from my library in Aleppo to Beirut.  The books that I gathered in the span of 40

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Photograph by Em Mahmoud, a Cairo-based photographer The storm descended on Cairo, bringing chaos to the urban desert. Gusting winds downed power lines and uprooted date palms. The devil rose with the dust, banishing the sun from its perch and shrouding the city in an orange haze.     Local authorities told citizens to wait out the storm. Most heeded the advice, choosing to observe the strange phenomenon from the safety of their homes. A young boy peered through a window overlooking the Nile. His mother sat beside him, her eyes fixed on the television. The father was across from them, lost in

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View of Tripoli. Photo by Nur Turkmani I write this the night before Ramadan, from my home in Tripoli. A night where families in Tripoli would have otherwise gathered at mosques to pray, gone to supermarkets to stack up on dates and almonds, visited neighbors and discussed what desserts they would prepare for the first iftar. Instead, people are desperate and angry. I see it right in front of me — in my mother’s face, as she tries to create some semblance of Ramadan by turning on old white plastic lamps. In my brother’s scrunched up face and tired eyes,

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Photographs from Beirut's abandoned cinema during the first week of the October 17 protests. On the second night of the October 17 protests, hundreds of protesters were violently tear gassed outside the Grand Serail. We got stuck in a stampede as it rained fire, and by the time we got out, we were scattered across Downtown. Somehow, my friend group managed to regroup at the Egg and climb into the dark and quiet cocoon. We sat on the ledge of the balcony, breathless and tearful, watching our city burn below us. It felt as though we’d been waiting for this for

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Conversing with Lujain Jo: On documenting Lebanon’s revolution, filming jellyfish, and Bedouins On a January afternoon, I found Lujain Jo seated outside her balcony, underneath a sprawling rubber tree. She was smoking a cigarette and looked as enchanting as always, in oversized black sunglasses and a Palestinian-patterned thobe cinched at the waist with a clunky, silver Bedouin belt.  Photo By Lujain Jo I’ve known her for over two years now, having met through our work at Megaphone News, where she is a videographer. Lujain is an Iraqi filmmaker, content producer, and activist based in Beirut. Over the past ten years, she has

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