Walid H., who just turned 29, graduated from the Arts Institute of Music in Syria. Before his displacement to Lebanon six months ago, he used to live in the Mezzeh slums in Damascus. He does not know exactly who is responsible for his anguish, but lately he has grown fearful of everything that goes on in Syria. He is afraid of the opposition, which raises slogans either with or against the people, and he equally fears the regime, which has an exaggerated view of the security apparatus that works according to the theory of "guilty until proven innocent." One morning, he was awoken by the voice of the Lebanese singer Fairuz — whom all Syrians love to listen to in the morning. Suddenly, he decided to leave the nothingness that he owned in Syria and moved to Lebanon.

With only his identity card, his guitar, a nearly empty suitcase and 2,000 Syrian lira [$14.58], he left for Lebanon. In the evenings, he would use his suitcase as a pillow and slept on the sidewalks of Hamra Street in Beirut. Today, six months after his displacement, he has a room in the slums of the Ouzai neighborhood in Beirut’s southern suburbs. He said, “Nothing has changed. We are still the same: citizens of the Arab slums.”

His daily sustenance relies on $20 gathered from passersby on the high-end streets of Beirut for the music he plays as a beggar. Walid says, “The Lebanese don’t like music, but they have an unruly desire for consumption, and this is something I take advantage of.”

Rarely do Walid’s eyes meet those of the people giving him spare change for his music. He does not take his eyes off the strings of his guitar, while the passersby who place a couple of coins in his hat lying in front of him do not look at him, but at their fellow passersby.