Amman,
I love you. Can you love a place like it is a person? But more blindly and forgiving? Because each person in that place is this tiny facet of the grand adventure, and the pieces of them that you take with you are brief enough to forgive or excuse or to adore without question?
Can you understand that I love your hills and the vast expanses of your city for all the good and bad because it feels like this city never lies? Like it offers up every part of itself for the good and bad and perfect and broken that it is without denial or excuse or asking forgiveness? Maybe I choose not to see what is not beautiful about this place anymore, but if that is so it is because it has loved me back with sweet ferocity.
This place taught me sunsets. Ones that gently take you by the arm and rob you of words and set you on your feet again in the quiet dusk.
but I'm just me, with too many words and too many feelings and too many things to say with too few words and narrow photos that could never encompass the way you break my heart just by existing each day.
Amman didn't want me but it fell in love with me, and I belong to it wholly and without reservation except in what holds me through memory and birthright to the rolling green of Kentucky. Here is to the home I never thought I'd find, and the corner of the world that made room for me, and swallowed me whole, skin and bones and beauty and faults. Here is to Amman!
Alix
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