On Love Letters: Wish You Were Here …

“America gives us letters of support,” says Siniora. “We get tons of paper, which can’t be recycled.”

Fouad, mon petit pauvre, your anguish is breaking my heart …

Does anyone else think that Fouad might be secretly writing letters to a romantic advice columnist, while holed up in the Grand Serail with the likes of Nayla Mouwaad:

Dear Abby (or Tommie, or Davey),

He called again today. Why, I don’t know. As always, he says just the right words, and as always, his voice melts my heart. But I am starting to think he just likes the sound of his own voice. Why does he promise me the sun, moon and stars and then leave me here all alone to fend for myself?
I saw a girl in the street today, and she looked so happy, so in love. Why can’t this be me? He tells me to be strong, that everything will be okay. But, my girlfriends say it must be another girl, someone he met before and someone he can not let go of. They say that I should just move on. But I can’t. I am stuck here all alone and I can’t escape my memories of his embrace or these feelings that we were meant to be. Am I being a fool? Whatever should I do?


Love-struck In Lebanon (L.I.L.)


6 Replies to “On Love Letters: Wish You Were Here …”

  1. Laz,

    It was the replies (available in the IHT, WaPost, NYT) that inspired the plaint … But let me see if i can come up with a better reply …


    Thanks … Although I could not figure out how to work the Saudis and the Syrians into this affair …

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