From the preface:
“Balconies” is a work of exploration and
of memory. Whenever I travel to Arab
cities, or cities in the US and Europe, I am
struck by the absence of balconies. I have
realized how much the people of the
Mediterranean consider their balconies
natural extensions of their homes, and
how vital their balconies are to their
personal spaces.
Levantines spend a lot of time on their
balconies: they use them as social spaces,
as breathing spaces, as confessionals, and
as a means both to distance themselves
from, and to become participants in, the
occurrences that mark their lives. The
people of the Levant in all their diversity
have always had to negotiate conflict. This
is a book about wars, both civil and
otherwise, about exile, and about the
meaning of identity and plurality.
This book resembles a residence in Beirut,
Alexandria or Athens, with each balcony
overlooking a view, a life, and a culture;
but they are all part of one Levantine
identity.
This is a book of personal histories which
occur in the corridors, the sitting rooms,
the private rooms, the ante chambers, and
the corners of a Levantine consciousness.
One text links to the other much like the
spaces in a home do. They are not
sequential in time, in space, or even in
genre, for they are attempts to shed light
on the variety of perceptions and
contradictions that make up who we are.
These texts are at the same time
celebration, exhortation, and
commemoration. Through them I have
tried to portray resilience in conflict,
poetry in war, and serenity in doubt. They
are journeys of faith, affirmations of
diversity, and expressions of gratitude.