She’s clear-headed, in a good place, and grateful. An hour of intense conversation about the people who left an imprint in her life. The ones who helped her be what she is today. “I’m here because of them. It all started with us eight.”

I met her a day before her birthday (A gentleman never forgets a lady’s birthday but always forgets her age). She loves Aquarians. That’s me. She’s happy, grateful, thankful, and full of empathy towards other people. She is spiritual and works on her inner harmony.

When my usual conversations with him cover technology, entrepreneurship, and politics, this one took us to a different level altogether. He roared with laughter when teasingly I asked him: “Why don’t you just give up on Lebanon?”

As journalists, they met many people and witnessed firsthand the industry's technological and financial fluctuations. Unfortunately, they see a decline in moral, ethical, and political standards. People in charge today don't have the same fabric as the statesmen they knew.

The 13-year-old boy would spend all his savings buying 33 and 45-rpm records. As a kid, he loved radio and Western music. At 16, with a voice that hadn't matured yet, he presented a program in French on the once-top radio station — Magic 102 FM.

She wasn't sure what to talk about, and I didn't know what to expect from our conversation. Once she warmed up, the words rolled out from within — logical, emotional, clear, and intense.

I sat with Yusuf at the Starbucks on the Corniche by the American University of Beirut. A walk away from his office at the Olayan School of Business. He would frequently refer to his father in our talk, who passed away a couple of weeks prior. From his mentions and non-verbal cues, I could tell he loved and admired him.

The clarity of where home is for him and not leaving home is his driving force. He understands other people, but for him, immigrating is not on the table. He doesn't question how happy or not he'd be if he left. He decided to make home a better place for himself, his family, and everyone else.

She raised one daughter in an apartment on the west side of the Lebanese Green Line. During the civil strife, leftist militias did as much action in their building as they did in the neighborhood. She was a rebel and an activist, yet she still managed to be the conservative mother she was supposed to play.

She's bubbly, sharp, energetic, and self-aware. She knows what she knows and knows what she doesn't know. Mental health is her thing. Coffee is not. Yet, she indulged me with a chat around a coffee table and got straight to it.

I met her once on April 13, 2011, for a project. Social media suggested her posts as of a year or so ago. A mutual friend got us back together. We met at 7 a.m. at Starbucks in downtown Beirut on a beautiful Saturday morning.

I called him to North Carolina. We chatted for over an hour. It's a long way from our Starbucks conversations 4+ years ago in London. The foggy city got us together, time made us grow fonder, and the distance became insignificant with technology.

I read his material, watch his videos, and saw him on TV, but this was the first time I sat with him and had a one-on-one conversation. Jihad has an unpretentious wealth of knowledge and is humble yet very opinionated about who the youth are and what they should be doing.

This was probably the third or fourth time I saw her come in, pick up her drink, and walk out. Always loud. She is always colorful by what she wears and by the color of her hair. I’ve witnessed black, red, silver, long, short, and a lot in between. And that’s only in about 3 months.

On a hot summer day in a village in Northern Lebanon, Fouad packed his suitcase and kissed his mother and siblings goodbye. His father was waiting in the taxi to take them to the airport. This usually one-hour ride took four.

Petite, pleasant, strong-willed, and full of energy. The youngest of three sisters who decided to have an identical tattoo on their chests’ right side. Forever sisters. Per sempre Sorelle it says. She likes what it means, what it stands for, and the beauty of its calligraphy.

Her passion lies in permaculture, a design system that mimics the patterns in nature to create diverse and balanced productive ecosystems. She was a biology teacher with a love for the environment and everything related to plants and ecology that started in Horsh Ehden.

Even in war, good things happen. Elise very rarely visited her hometown of Becharre. In July 2006, her parents fled Beirut to their village in North Lebanon for the remainder of that summer. Being there was safer and farther from the Israeli-Hezbollah war.

On a hot summer day in 1952 in the Libaa South East Saida village, a four-year-old girl would leave home barefoot, as she always was, to visit with her grandmother. Walking through the woods and orchards for two hours to the next village, she would depend on the water springs for reference.

She never got to high school. By ninth grade, she was out. Effectively, her education was disrupted from the sixth grade due to war and other factors. She remembers that she quit schooling when she started learning English. In Lebanon, it’s usually by sixth grade.