The clarity of where home is for him and not leaving home is his driving force. He understands other people, but for him, immigrating is not on the table. He doesn't question how happy or not he'd be if he left. He decided to make home a better place for himself, his family, and everyone else.

She raised one daughter in an apartment on the west side of the Lebanese Green Line. During the civil strife, leftist militias did as much action in their building as they did in the neighborhood. She was a rebel and an activist, yet she still managed to be the conservative mother she was supposed to play.

She's bubbly, sharp, energetic, and self-aware. She knows what she knows and knows what she doesn't know. Mental health is her thing. Coffee is not. Yet, she indulged me with a chat around a coffee table and got straight to it.

I met her once on April 13, 2011, for a project. Social media suggested her posts as of a year or so ago. A mutual friend got us back together. We met at 7 a.m. at Starbucks in downtown Beirut on a beautiful Saturday morning.

I called him to North Carolina. We chatted for over an hour. It's a long way from our Starbucks conversations 4+ years ago in London. The foggy city got us together, time made us grow fonder, and the distance became insignificant with technology.

I read his material, watch his videos, and saw him on TV, but this was the first time I sat with him and had a one-on-one conversation. Jihad has an unpretentious wealth of knowledge and is humble yet very opinionated about who the youth are and what they should be doing.

This was probably the third or fourth time I saw her come in, pick up her drink, and walk out. Always loud. She is always colorful by what she wears and by the color of her hair. I’ve witnessed black, red, silver, long, short, and a lot in between. And that’s only in about 3 months.

On a hot summer day in a village in Northern Lebanon, Fouad packed his suitcase and kissed his mother and siblings goodbye. His father was waiting in the taxi to take them to the airport. This usually one-hour ride took four.

Petite, pleasant, strong-willed, and full of energy. The youngest of three sisters who decided to have an identical tattoo on their chests’ right side. Forever sisters. Per sempre Sorelle it says. She likes what it means, what it stands for, and the beauty of its calligraphy.

Her passion lies in permaculture, a design system that mimics the patterns in nature to create diverse and balanced productive ecosystems. She was a biology teacher with a love for the environment and everything related to plants and ecology that started in Horsh Ehden.

Even in war, good things happen. Elise very rarely visited her hometown of Becharre. In July 2006, her parents fled Beirut to their village in North Lebanon for the remainder of that summer. Being there was safer and farther from the Israeli-Hezbollah war.

On a hot summer day in 1952 in the Libaa South East Saida village, a four-year-old girl would leave home barefoot, as she always was, to visit with her grandmother. Walking through the woods and orchards for two hours to the next village, she would depend on the water springs for reference.

She never got to high school. By ninth grade, she was out. Effectively, her education was disrupted from the sixth grade due to war and other factors. She remembers that she quit schooling when she started learning English. In Lebanon, it’s usually by sixth grade.

Starbucks was empty. We took one out of the only three tables available due to social distancing. A meter apart across from a coffee table, masks on/off, we visited for a good hour and a half.

She’s a person of extremes. She did not like school and had a problem with figures of authority, be it work-related, political, or religious. She can’t be an employee. She enjoyed cheating at school for the fun of it — copied from students and allowed students to copy from her. An outlaw.

Two people serve one meaningful purpose. Denise, Muriel, and their Zyara [visit in Arabic]. They get invited to other people’s lives and get entrusted with their stories to document and share. Their story-telling invites hope and waken inspiration.

Abouna (Fr.) Tony is a brand name kneaded with love over five decades. He brings out the good in you. A master listener. Generous with his time and resources. A youth dynamo, team player, and team builder. Obedient to his church, a servant leader, and an inspiration by example.

I had seen him with a dog a few times. He’d grab a coffee, take a table on the outside terrace overlooking Beirut, and read. What brings this European-looking biker to Lebanon? These days, and to this Starbucks in particular? What’s his story? I was intrigued.

Osta became Costa after half his family moved to the US. His dad’s cousins are the Costantine’s (sometimes spelled Constantine). The Osta’s are originally from Maghdousheh (مغدوشة) near Sidon, Lebanon.

She is multi-talented. Sports were big with her. She loves the outdoors and being in the scouting movement. Music plays a big part in her life. She uses the written word to express herself. The visual arts, however, are something else. It’s the closest to her self-expression.