There comes a moment when a place no longer belongs only to the present. It begins to exist in two times at once, as something still lived, and something already becoming memory.

Before It Disappears follows this quiet transformation through my village of Joun, where I returned after years of living in Beirut. It is less concerned with disappearance itself than with the strange experience of witnessing it while life continues. Children still play in the streets, flowers return with the seasons, families gather, old men sit outside their homes. Nothing has stopped. And yet something has already begun to slip away.

Over the years, wars, migration, economic collapse, and the slow movement of time have altered the village and the lives around it. Houses empty, generations leave, familiar rhythms become quieter. What changes is not only the place itself, but the way it is inhabited, remembered, and carried by those who remain.

These photographs do not attempt to preserve the village against time or to mourn it before it is gone. They remain close to what is still here, attentive to the fragile coexistence of presence and disappearance. They ask what it means to love a place while knowing it cannot remain as it is.