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At times, life takes us by the hand and leads us into a strange whirlwind, a dance punctuated by the vicissitudes of daily existence. An infinite waltz with fleeting moments, hours, seasons and years. Every step we take, every movement we do, every gesture we perform, all contribute to our unique and personal choreography. Whether or not we are aware of it, we are all solitary dancers within the grand stage of existence.

What should one do when realizing that the music has ceased, the lights have dimmed, and yet we continue to dance, flailing about in silence and darkness? When the pace of life seems to desynchronize and our once graceful and harmonious movements become hesitant and disordered? When each day feels like an eternity, each night like an abyss of solitude and each moment a challenge to our resilience?

The external world, once so bright and vibrant, gradually becomes dull and monotonous. The people around us, once close and familiar, slowly turn into distant strangers. The things we loved, the pleasures we cherished, the passions that fueled us, all become distant and unattainable. And we find ourselves dancing alone, without music, without light, without rhythm.

Is this when to succumb to despair, collapse onto the floor and cease dancing? No. For despite the shadows that envelop us, the melancholy that besets us, the silence that oppresses us, there remains within us a spark of life, a breath of resilience, an indomitable force that refuses to be extinguished. This force is our soul. Our soul, which, despite everything, continues to dance.

What should one do then? Perhaps keep dancing, despite it all. To dance with passion and audacity, despite the darkness and silence. To dance with courage and hope, despite the wounds and weariness. To dance with love and tenderness, despite the loneliness and indifference. To dance, simply because it is our way of telling the world that we are still here, that we are still alive.

Beyond the tumult and scars left by time, Lebanon, a land of contrasts, also thrives as a realm of celebrations. As summer takes hold, it gives birth to bursts of laughter and joy heard in every corner of the country. Summer festivals, those sparkling crowns of wonder and hope, illuminate the weary nights and breathe new life into the dance of existence.

Stretching from the northernmost reaches to the southernmost corners, from the eastern lands to the western realms, each region opens its heart to embrace these celebrations of life. These festivals, like fireflies in the darkness, illuminate the aching hearts and soothe the weary souls. They serve as a reminder that the music of life continues to play, that the dance of existence continues to evolve. They are a celebration of resilience and perseverance, but also of hope and joy.

In this dance, every fearful step may become a bit more confident, every hesitant movement a bit more graceful, every awkward gesture a bit more harmonious. Summer in Lebanon, with its festivals and celebrations, is a healing balm for wounded hearts. It offers a chance to rediscover joy, to rediscover life. So perhaps the dance that once felt solitary is no longer so, the whirlwind of life no longer so chaotic. Perhaps life, in all its beauty and complexity, is still a dance – but a dance of hope, a dance of love, a dance of life.

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