In this film I search for my tragedy. I do not find it, for it is not tangible. I search for it in memory, among clear and faded pictures, in Damascus and Beirut, in the shadows of my close friend Louay’s stories, between my prisons and his own. I finally find it in my body.
Yaman is a young inventor. His greatest invention is an incredible machine that can work wonders with paper tissues and will help him survive.
It has been more than two years since the Syrian regime started the siege of the Southern suburbs of Damascus, home to a population of over 100000 people. In these two years, more than 200 people have died because of hunger and lack of medical care. The remaining inhabitants continue living, fighting both siege and hunger through the hope and love they have learned to find during the hardest of times.
Garage Izmir marks the middle of a long journey for thousands of Syrian refugees hoping to make it to Europe, after a long wait in Turkey. Will this part of their journey be delayed one more day?
When you can no longer rebel, when your country turns into a big prison, you walk the very same streets you did in your resistance days. A city split in two and where is your place? Relax.. you’re in Damascus!
I have had a recurring dream since I arrived in Beirut. The dream takes me back to besieged Yarmouk Refugee Camp, where death and destruction have infiltrated everything. But I am not sure whether it is a dream or a nightmare.
This film was born on the frontlines; between the suburb of Jobar and Abbasyeen square on the outskirts of Damascus. It was born between life and death, between beginnings and endings. Born between the rebel Free Syrian Army and the Syrian regime’s army, between the sniper and his rifle, between the voice of Fayrouz and the sound of bullets.