It looks obvious

Some things have changed tremendously. Today, there are no more portraits of Hafez. Or statues paying tribute to his dead son. No portraits of his ill-advised heir either. Not in Rafik Hariri International Airport. They smile and crack jokes at passport control. Genuinely happy to see us coming home. Customs agents no longer have annoying accents. Not looking for a ‘tip’. No more portraits on my way home. Not in my village. There still are Syrian roadside vegetable vendors. They fly the Lebanese flag now. But they can’t hide that annoying accent. I hurt them that best way I know how. I just drive off. Don’t buy anything. No more rage. No more absolute fear. Just hunger. For that tiny little taste of heaven again.