Absolute silence. Total silence. No cars. No footsteps. No talks. No whispers. Nothing: Hassan Nasrallah was giving a speech. It was around 8:00 PM yesterday. Those who were lucky (blessed with the electrical/generator luxury) were totally absorbed by his talks. Of course, I was part of the unlucky group of candle light holders. I heard his voice from the street, coming out from the small restaurant-cafe-nargileh place down the road. As I rushed to my car to drive towards a friend living in a generator-equipped building, I crossed the cafe in question, that used to host world cup matches on a giant screen. I could recognize the same crowd, the same nargileh smells and the same big screen. But instead of the projected image of the rectangular green pitch there was the charismatic face and voice of the Hezbollah's leader. Nearly one month ago, in the evening of the world cup final between Italy and France, two groups of supporters were sitting in the same setting: The French team's supporters and the Italian team's supporters. Those who supported Italy shouted happily when the French missed a penalty. Now, maybe the same groups of people were converted to pro-Hezbollah team and those who are against. The same happy cheers were loudly heard when Nasrallah mentioned that Tel Aviv will be hit if anything happens to Beirut. Italy won the world cup at the end. Is there a sign somewhere?
In the morning, after the stupid Israel's military nonsense bombing of four bridges in the North, Hamra streets were empty. Instead of the usual crowd of coffee drinking clients I used to find on the small terrace outside Cafe Younes, only four clients were exchanging anxiously the newspapers. Of course the talks were all about Nasrallah's speech.

• I gathered some comments: "This guy is very logical. I hate him because he says the truth. I have never seen a leader like that. I will marry him if he wants. He's giving us back our dignity. He is a blood sucking maniac. I love his personality..."
• ... And some people made fun of the Israeli commando on Baalbeck capturing a grocery shop owner unfortunately named Hassan Nasrallah: "Highly decorated Israeli officers and hundreds of soldiers won the war by capturing a young man called Hassan. They even called Rambo for reinforcement. Half of the Israeli population is starving due to the cost of the operation. I bet that the Israeli government still believes they have captured the right guy even after watching the real Nasrallah on TV..."
• Abou Anwar is a 67 years old employee of Cafe Younes. He is what we call in coffee language, a master roaster or a coffee roasting specialist. He started working with my grandfather when he was 18. After nearly 50 years, he still opens the shop at 6:30 in the morning and leaves at 3:00 to his village in the Lebanese Shouf mountains: A drive of one and a half hour. He is still strong like a bull, able to carry a 60 kgs coffee bag in one hand, and, besides working, he loves to have those endless talks about the beautiful Paris-of-the-Orient pre-war Beirut. And I witnessed, again, a nostalgic discussion of the Lebanon of the fifties and the sixties. Three elderly clients, and Abou Anwar, gathered in the cafe trying to remember the name of the over weight policeman who used to hit on cars to make them stop, or the long waiting line in front of the first Lebanese theater, or even their early sexual experience with a prostitute in the Zaytouneh area. I used to, and I still do, listen to everything they say. Today, I was happy to realize that they did not mention the present situation. They live happily in their past, unaware of the present drastic situation.
• Karim came in to order his espresso. Karim is a regular, early twenties, Lebanese student who skips classes, wakes up late in the day and likes to go out every night. After dropping his sunglasses in one corner, his pack of Marlboro in another and his keys in another, Karim started to talk about what he is doing nowadays. "I wake up early", he proudly started, "to go help my father. Then I go to unload cases of food, sheets and other necessities in the neighboring school that is now a place for displaced Southerners. In the evening I go back home to sleep for two or three hours then go back to the school at night for my surveillance duty till 4 AM. I am exhausted but very happy." This young boy has changed. He is now a responsible adult. I always used to say that the war develops the best in us and makes us stronger. One of the many proofs is Karim.
• Latifa and Amale are two Colombian-Lebanese sisters. I witnessed a family argument today. The family is planning an "evacuation" by the Colombian government. Latifa doesn't want to go and Amale is eager to see herself in her Colombian island eating mango and drinking coconut milk. "I want to stay here", Latifa said, "I can't see myself in Colombia!" And Amale replied: "Did you sleep yesterday night with all the heavy bombing and the sound of airplanes? Do you want to die?" And it went on for several minutes. They even have different opinions regarding the role of Hezbollah in the war! And this changed into an open discussion involving all the clients in the coffee shop. I should have charged my clients for participating.

Attached: Emily, Jamal, Latifa and Amale.