Farah’s Stories — stolen childhood RSS

Every day, I wake up with a simple intention: to live as if today is the last day of my life. But life, with all its beauty, often collides with an unimaginable darkness. In the blink of an eye, the home I grew up in, filled with memories of love, laughter, and sunsets, is gone—reduced to rubble by forces that claim morality. This is a story of enduring loss, relentless resilience, and the quiet strength we carry as we rise again. As the world around us shifts, we remain—rooted, like the ancient cedars of Lebanon.

As I became older, Salaam Ajami’s store faded from my memory.. and the shopping avenue we lived on in Tyre became larger and more modern, we started going to more expanded shops that were not a tiny corner like Salaam’s but also had fine quality clothing and the kindest people like the Hachem’s (Em Hassan and Abo Hassan)… now that I think about it, all the memorable shop owners had one thing in common; extreme generosity and kindness.