72 GOING ON 11.
Saado is the sunshine of the neighborhood in Ain el-Mreisseh in the heart of Beirut — a warm, familiar presence whose spirit lights up every corner of our street.
Each morning, he wakes up early and strolls over to Nawal’s house, whistling softly as he walks. Nawal, a kind neighbor, lost her brother years ago to a diving accident — he and Saado were close friends. Since then, she has taken Saado under her wing, caring for him with quiet devotion for the past eight years. She feeds him, dresses him, buys him new clothes — tending to him with love and patience.
Saado lives in a world untouched by time. His heart is light, his mind free, simple in the most beautiful sense. Though he is 72, he insists he is 11, and in many ways, he is. There’s an innocence in the way he moves through life, unburdened, joyful.
He loves to help; it’s what he does best. From sweeping porches to carrying groceries, picking vegetables, and tidying up, Saado is everyone’s helper. The neighbors always have little tasks for him, and he happily earns a bit of pocket money, which Nawal keeps safe. On special days, like Eid, she surprises him with new clothes and treats, small joys that light up his face.
Saado is also our loyal weatherman. Whenever we cross paths in the street, he gives us the day’s forecast, always accurate, as if the skies themselves confide in him.
From my balcony, I often spot him sitting peacefully on Nawal’s terrace: on a white plastic chair by a white table draped in a colorful, flowered tablecloth. Birdcages hang beside him, plants bloom around him. It’s his little haven, and from there, his laughter drifts into the air.
When I asked him what he likes, he grinned and answered with wide-eyed innocence: “GIRLS!” And when I asked if he was afraid of anything, he looked at me and said, “What do you want me to be afraid of?”
At night, he walks back to his house just around the corner, still whistling, still carrying that same light with him.
Saado is a reminder — of joy, of simplicity, of presence. When I’m feeling low and I hear his voice echoing through the street, suddenly, everything feels good again.

Chloe Khoury
Chloe is a Lebanese filmmaker and photographer whose work centers on social issues, personal struggles, and underrepresented voices in Lebanon. With a background in communications and an MA in Marketing and Sustainable Development, she uses her camera as a tool for advocacy and storytelling. Her work has been recognized and exhibited at CAMERA Torino (in partnership with ICP), Olhares Do Mediterraneo Film Festival, Beirut Art District, and Gulf Photo Plus. Through her lens, Chloe connects deeply with people and places—turning the act of photographing into a powerful form of witnessing and belonging.













