There is not a single day that I do not return to the sweet, happy memories of my childhood—filled with scents, flavors, and perfumes. My home carried an aroma for each season, as my mother cooked summer, cooked spring, and cooked winter.
Une lettre d'amour pour le Liban
There is not a single day that I do not return to the sweet, happy memories of my childhood—filled with scents, flavors, and perfumes. My home carried an aroma for each season, as my mother cooked summer, cooked spring, and cooked winter.