The part of Sawt that most interests me is its shedding of light on the humanistic side of singing: the ability to bring back the first feelings of astonishment, the desire to light a small candle and to curse the dark at the same time.
Sawt is similar to a moon of love that immerses the pitch-dark night with pure silver.
There is nothing left for us in this world but the moonlight; we grasp it like a piece of flotsam against the flagrant savagery.
Why then do some believe that we will give up our right to sing with the amateurs? They are coming from neighborhoods near and far— what’s left of the al-Fayha plains.
I love you all; this a common right as I see it and no one can take it from me. It is a beautiful love, was born from the rock of that port with its fineness of a little bird.
In Oumeima’s flaming throat there are images that are big enough for the heart’s explosions on the maqamat.
Sing so we can touch that light, the light that is filling the farthest corners of the earth.
The baton of Barkev the patient, who is coming from Anjar in Bekaa Valley to Tripoli in the north, is breaking the children’s silence. They are sleeping in the open air, screaming in fear and pain... Maybe this singing can soothe their wounds.
Your paradise is here in al-Fayha. Entice the others into this paradise like lovers, wandering souls and intimate invaders. That way, we can be assured that there is enough time in life to reach those who are searching for themselves in others.
This encounter might be an unformed baby in the belly of the present, but the baby will grow in the future.
Singing is similar to love: it needs talent, endurance and creativity.
It’s not enough to love but we have to know how to love.
So let us begin as if we don’t know anything. Let us pick the unattainable rose and jump off the high rock.