Merry Christmas from the land of prophets and profiteers; a country with too many shrines but not enough saints.
Merry Christmas from the place that sane people go to lose their minds, according to my grandma. She said I haven’t changed one bit. “”But when will you make your mother a teta?”
Merry Christmas from the room Ma Sœur said there’s nothing to photograph. Swipe to see where she took me to take photos instead.
Merry Christmas from our abandoned ancestral home. My uncle had big plans for this place my whole life. It still looks exactly the same: like a family debacle.
Merry Christmas from my ancestral church, built by my forebears and established as our family parish in 1829. One day they’ll be burying me here.
Merry Christmas from the land of wonders i.e. 3ajayeb w gharayeb. At least the roads were clear today.