Flashback Friday (in lieu of Throwback Thursday)

I wrote this poem after my first month in Beirut. Still in love with that place.   I didn’t expect to fall so in love with every heavy moment, every late night house party, every boy at every late night house party who I stare at with Almaza eyes thinking of the ways he reminds …

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Crumbling

Check out this writing/photo collaboration between me and my soul sister, Crystal Ward. I’m in love with creative hearts and deep, dark inspirations.

This is a collaboration between Elizabeth Endara (writer) and Crystal Ward (photographer).

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Across from the post office and down the street from the bus station, there’s an abandoned wine factory. It’s a crumbling building filled with trash. During the war, it was used as a sort of base for Serbian forces. The reports from those days say things like “the Serbian police opened fire from their position near the wine cellar.” The headlines present the situation as “volatile.” Only we, here in the present, know how volatile it truly was. A few steps from the wine factory is a memorial for the dozens of civilians who lived and died in this small town. Too many of them innocents, too many of them children. But the wine factory stands, itself a memorial of the past, yet it has lived to see today.

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The factory now sits alone behind overgrown bushes…

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On Fridays We Write Fiction

So I've made up my mind to write more. I have this great book by Brian Kiteley called The 3 A.M. Epiphany. We used it in one of my undergrad classes. It has writing prompts for flash fiction pieces. And so my new goal is to write Flash Fiction every Friday. The alliteration just gets …

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The Goods

Ah yes, moving again. I have been beautifully happy, and my writing gets worse when I'm happy. But I'll find my way eventually. I haven't had many words lately to say or write. I've used them all up thinking. Right now I am overthinking the word 'good.' Lots of things can be good. People are …

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The Where

She’s tired from the moving. It’s one of those things where her body is just like, “what are you doing to me? Find a place to rest other than an airplane.” And she just responds with, “I can’t hear you.” Her leaps of faith cross timezones and people say, “wow, you’re brave. You’re adventurous. You’re …

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Here In Between

Oh my life, my love, can you hear me? Here's the part of my life where I sit and watch my dreams change. I sat on the ledge of some cliff on some hill in some village in Lebanon and I could see it. The clouds rolling in over the hills, coming from the sea …

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A moment

I wrote this a couple of weeks ago: Things are never the way you expect them to be. Nothing looks the way you painted it in your mind. In my picture of Beirut, I didn't imagine a Syrian refugee next to an American Eagle next to a Lebanese restaurant next to a grocery store that …

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