I took this photo recently at the Dbayeh seafront, just north of Beirut. There’s something about it that felt like it captured more than just a typical day by the water. In the image, you can see two people walking on the left, their figures blurred as if they’re rushing through life, while on the right, a man sits quietly on the edge of the pier, staring out at the sea.
Lebanon has been through so much since the economic crisis hit in 2019, and of course, the Beirut explosion on August 4, 2020, changed everything in ways we’re still trying to fully grasp. This image, in a way, feels like it sums up where we are as a country, caught between the need to keep moving ahead and the need to pause and think.
The people walking on the left made me think of how so many of us are just trying to get by, to push through the daily struggles, even if everything feels a little blurred and uncertain. There’s a sense of urgency, of trying to move on, even though the path isn’t entirely clear. It’s what life has felt like for a lot of us these past few years, just keeping up with everything, even when it’s hard to see what’s ahead.
And then, on the right, the man sitting by himself, gazing at the sea, he signifies something different. Maybe he’s reflecting on everything that’s happened, maybe he’s taking a moment to rest. In his stillness, I see a lot of the quiet grief and contemplation that many people carry. It reminds me of how we all need moments like that, where we can just sit and think, especially after everything we’ve been through.
One of the reasons I chose to show this image in black and white, instead of in color, is because I didn’t want the distractions of a bright blue sky or vibrant colors to take away from the feeling I wanted to express. In color, the scene might look calm and peaceful, but black and white strips that away and focuses on the emotions. It feels heavier, more honest, and reflects the stark realities we’ve been facing. For me, the absence of color brings out the rawness of the moment, the uncertainty, the reflection, the quiet resilience. It’s not a cheerful scene, but it’s real, and that’s what I wanted to show.
The sea in front of the man stretches out endlessly, like the unknown future. For some, it might be a symbol of hope, something to look ahead to. For others, it might feel like a reminder of how uncertain everything still is. Either way, it’s there, vast, unchanging, yet always moving.
What I like about this photo is that it’s simple, but it holds a lot of meaning for me. It shows the two sides of life in Lebanon right now: the constant movement ahead, even when things are tough, and the need for quiet reflection on everything that’s happened. It’s a reminder that no matter how hard things get, people keep going, and that’s something worth holding onto.
BASSEM H. BOUSTANY Photography 
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