On Sunday, October 20th, 2013 I went to lunch with my family at a restaurant in Beirut. We don’t go out often, because to do so we have to get past the homework, the hangovers, the late work nights, and the family duties. But the rare and wonderful times that we do go out together, we head on over to a restaurant (in one car, so it looks a little like Little Miss Sunshine )– and the first thing we do is scan the people around us.
We giggle to ourselves as we watch the couples who eat in silence, for whom time has run their river of conversation dry. We chuckle at the botched plastic surgery jobs, we “aww” at the little ones with gorgeous curly locks, and we always, always, tut tut in disappointment at the families who have brought the help.
Let me preface this debate by…
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