I cannot write more; just look into Khaled’s eyes and hear those words and those shots.

Another tragedy for the dark annals of history is unfolding and we will never grasp just how deep this heinous crime runs.

Exasperated, we wrangled the evening off and went in search of true Moroccan cuisine.

On Rue Dammas there lies a restaurant that meets every salivatingly swoonsome dream of the weary traveller: Le Petit Beur.

It is divine in every sense: the decor is traditional, without being strained; the staff are infinitely joyful without being overbearing; the music is subtle and the food…

…well, see for yourself:

I had pastilla au poulet/pastilla with chicken for the starter, kofta ma bayd/kofta with egg for the main, and pastilla with lemon, fleurs de l’orange and almonds for the dessert.

It is pure heaven on a plate.

It made me smile, for I have long been a perpetrator of this, but lacked a definitive name and explanation for it.

My hate-reading of choice has long been The Daily Mail; if I ever must explain a sentiment in which the third party is narrow-minded, parochial and invariably hostile to new, incoming influences, I use the paper as a catch-all title.

For the non-rightwingers, the Mail is a source of cock-eyebrowed snorts and on a more serious note, a check-in on the less savoury sentiments pervading British society as multi-culturalism rises and tolerance drops.

Today’s article on yesterday’s Jummah prayer, during which several hundred Muslims prayed in a side street in London’s financial district (the mosque was over capacitated), left me cold, however.

More to the point, the comments – and even more, the likes and dislikes – are plain chilling.

Of the 15 comments, almost 14 gathered nigh 1,000 likes for each expressing negative bigotry (such as ‘is this England?’, ‘words fail me’ and ‘London the New Middle East! I’m off to Australia!’), while the one positive (‘Beautiful ) has so far gathered almost 1,000 dislikes and no likes.

The low number of comments and high number of dislikes suggests a prevelance of negativity that perhaps individuals are less than willing to express directly.

It is easier to click an up or down arrow than it is to formulate words and a pseudonym, while entering your e-mail address to log in.

For me, this is an image of awe and beauty: it captures one of the defining positive features of Britain – choice.

In many countries the faithful would be harassed into leaving; that they could conduct their prayer unhindered is something wonderful and to be preserved.

I hope the bigots never win. Because these images and expressions of faith are nuggets of inspiration in a time of despondency.

Perhaps it stands as a testament to the power of social media that it has risen to such (due) prominence through the mediums of Facebook and Twitter.

Nevertheless, the frustration remains then, as it does now:

In Saudi Arabia in 2000 a group of middle-class women drove cars into the centre of town [...] The following day their husbands were arrested and the women involved were not given the respect of being detained. This act by the state effectively erodes their agency.

Taken from ’The Realm of the Possible: Middle Eastern Women in Political and Social Spaces.’ Amal Treacher and Hala Shukrallah. Feminist Review, No. 69, Winter, 2001.

The preceding lecture addressed female empowerment and the challenges therein, and the multitude of clips, documentaries and movies abounded.

However, while many came close, few captured the sensitivity and deep beauty of Ten.

Over the course of ten journeys, the women (and Mania Akbari‘s son) present the multifacets of women’s lives in Tehran: religion, divorce, love, loss and sex.

But ultimately, it is a film about loss: be it faith, a man, a son, a family or pillows and a duvet, life is all ‘win, lose, win, lose.’

You lose, to win:

By the man with possibly the most beautiful voice I have listened to:

Initially a mortal slight, it quickly retires to a constant, low hum to be greeted by insouciance, cynicism and, as below, dry wit:

One night President Obama and his wife Michelle decided to do something out of routine and go for a casual dinner at a restaurant that wasn’t too luxurious.

When they were seated, the owner of the restaurant asked the President’s secret service if he could please speak to the First Lady in private.

They obliged and Michelle had a conversation with the owner.

Following this conversation President Obama asked Michelle, why was he so interested in talking to you.

She mentioned that in her teenage years, he had been madly in love with her.

President Obama then said, “so if you had married him, you would now be the owner of this lovely restaurant”, to which Michelle responded, “no, if I had married him, he would now be the President.”

Love it.

The below image comprises the Haifa-Beirut shuttle bus, circa 1948, via Handala, on Facebook: