Beirut, Sursock Street, behind the closed doors of a private flat, something began to twist. A new case file opened: the launch of the Fantastic Plastic stools, the first Rat d’Hôtel exhibition in the city.

Together, they gave birth to a hybrid monster.

Jazz was illegal, so the scene adapted.

Their names weren’t recorded nor was their kiss given a title. No one called it art.

An art form, an elegance dialect, a beautiful fuck-you to postcolonial wreckage.

Frankétienne and the total language of the Spirale

photography credit © Corentin Fohlen / Divergence for UNESCO

A stubborn itch to see what society labels off-limits.

A kiss might seem somewhat ordinary now, but back in 1896, it was daring enough to make history.

The Western Bekaa, flanked by mountain spines, births bottles holding sunlight and old stories. © Chateau Kefraya picture by Eli.