Photo by Emily O'Dell--taken in Sabra refugee camp in Beirut
“I just love that perfume you are wearing–where did you get it?” my friend said, navigating her car through a perilous intersection.
“Sabra,” I said, looking out the window.
I knew it wasn’t what she was expecting. She was waiting for Chanel or Dior–or Arden’s Red Door. Not Sabra–the refugee camp–where a kind woman had insisted on buying me a vial of rose essence–after I visited with a number of Syrian refugees.
“Well, it’s just–lovely,” my friend said, before hitting the brakes and inhaling deeply–to savor the sweet fragrance of roses.
