brick homes squeezed under ledges and farming terraces , all set mere feet from the precipitous edge .

Twenty-five years ago , this path was once the main road for the villagers of As Sab . “ It was home to around 50 people who sheltered here from invaders and funneled off the water to grow food ,” says our stubblechinned Lebanese guide , Hanna Tanassy , pointing to a dried-out river bed , which in summer transforms when the rains arrive into a roaring waterfall that thunders into the gorge below . Now , in the dry season , there ’ s just a still pool populated with frogs . Moss drips from the surrounding rocks . “ I met a man who lived there — he missed it , but said the kids nowadays needed electricity and internet ,” finishes Hanna . Life moved on and the town was abandoned ,

leaving just the whisper of a lifestyle that ’ ll never resume .

We retrace our steps and head to the nearby village of Misfat Al Abriyeen , where life seems unchanged since Biblical times . Stone-built homes rise behind a bank of date palms and neatly squared fields flushed green by the carved water channels . We ’ re met by Hamid Rashid Alabin and his cousin Hilal Alabri , one of eight families who still live in this medieval village and can trace 25 generations of their family back to this place . “ There ’ s been a village here for over a thousand years ,” says Hamid proudly , pacing the streets whose steps have been worn smooth by footsteps and the hooves of donkeys shouldering grass bales . Some homes are more than 800 years old , there was no electricity or

Clockwise from above : Misfat Al Abriyeen ; Hamid Rashid Alabin and Hilal Alabri with dates ; a date palm wrapped to help catch the fruit

images : awl images ; emma thomson

28 // pos t c a rds