Αλλά και: εδώ
The film cuts between intimate scenes—by a hospital bed, at a kitchen table, in a car, watering a plant—and broader shots of the city. Riot police beating back protesters against the government, vendors on a street corner in the hustle of midday, mannequins being undressed and refashioned, workmen demolishing a building in Alexandria, pausing to look at found photographs, layers of color and texture crumbling with each wall and room that comes down. These recurring moments of urban life, across night and day, punctuate and mark the passage of time. We see Cairo, and Alexandria, most frequently through windows—shops, homes, or cars driving by. The radio is often playing in the background […]
At the cinema conference, he says:
Ask anyone of my generation if they preferred Beirut after the war or Beirut during the war and they’ll say it was better during. Because we loved Beirut more. Baghdad has known war just as Beirut has, and I know what a city at war means. Life suddenly has a deeper meaning.