My father's hand was the city of Beirut.
I came to Ziad Kalthoum's Taste of Cement by accident and it's one of those accidents that you're grateful for. Not so long ago, I read a long article on the Guardian about our obsession with concrete. Concrete, stable, over-towering and yet destructive, is perhaps the symbol of our advanced modern societies. Kalthoum's film is not only about this though. It's a poetic journey in many ways . . .
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