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Hello. So as you know, my comfort zone isn’t here.
大家好，各位知道，这里不是我的舒适圈。
It’s usually on set, behind a camera, like him, or him.
我的舒适圈通常是在片场，在摄影机后面，就像他，或是他。
But I’m very happy to be here.
但我很高兴来到这里。
So yes, I was born in Beirut, Lebanon.
是的，我是在黎巴嫩的贝鲁特出生。
It’s what I call my home country.
它是我的祖国。
It’s the place where my first memories are, where my parents live, where my first loves are, my first heartbreaks.
我最早的记忆都是那里的记忆，我父母住在那里，我最初的恋情在那里，最初的心碎也在那里。
I’ve lived in other places and I’ve made them home, like New York, which I’ve fallen in love with -- and in.
我住过其他地方，也把那里当成是家。比如纽约，我爱上了这个地方，也在这个地方谈了恋爱。
But I always felt like my biggest strength came from the fact that I knew exactly where I came from.
但我一直都觉得，我最强大的力量来自于我很清楚知道我来自何方。
And that knowledge was very important to me because it really defines who I am as a woman.
知道这一点，对我非常重要，因为它真的定义了我是什么样的女性。
But growing up in Lebanon comes with a price.
但在黎巴嫩长大是有代价的。
I think this tension and this -- what I have between my home country is something I cherish but it’s also a burden, because Lebanon is a place with a very contradicting soul.
我认为这种紧张状况和这——我和我祖国之间的关系，我很珍惜，但也是一种担子。因为黎巴嫩这个地方有着非常矛盾的灵魂。
It’s a place filled with chaos and poetry; a place where hope and despair coexist in really strange ways.
这个地方充满了混乱与诗意；希望和绝望以非常奇怪的方式在这个地方共存着。
It’s also a place where joy and sorrow are inseparable, like Khalil Gibran -- in one of my favorite poems by our national poet, Khalil Gibran mentions “that well from which comes our laughter is also the one that hosts our tears.”
在这个地方，喜悦与悲伤也是不可分离的，比如黎巴嫩诗人卡里?纪伯伦在我最爱的一首诗中，卡里?纪伯伦写道：“那口井是我们笑声的来源，也蕴藏著我们的眼泪。”
And I think today, more than ever, this is true in Lebanon, because after everything that happened, it feels like a land of broken dreams, but filled with so many dreams nonetheless.
我想，现今的黎巴嫩比以往更符合这样的说法，因为，在发生了这一切之后，它感觉就像是破碎梦想之地，但无论如何还是充满了梦想。
And growing up in Lebanon, we were constantly on the verge of the worst.
在黎巴嫩长大的过程中，我们经常身在最糟糕的边缘。
We felt like that silence between crisis and the other was almost more agonizing than the crisis itself.
我们觉得，在一次危机和下一次危机之间的寂静，几乎比危机本身还要让人痛苦。
And that really defined us as human beings, because we really live every day as if it were our last, and that’s in the best and the worst kind of ways.
那真的就是我们身为人类的特性，因为我们真的把每一天用最好的方式和最糟的方式，当作我们的最后一天在过。
I think this is where the screenwriter in me was born: at home in Lebanon, in the streets at home and the house I grew up in, because I became fascinated with human flaws and vulnerabilities and the truth that comes out of us in times of crisis and when we’re put under pressure.
我想，我内心的剧作家就是在这里出生的：在黎巴嫩的家乡，在家乡的街头，在我长大的房子里，因为我迷上了人类的瑕疵和脆弱，以及在危机之中及在压力之下，我们会展现出的真实性。
And when at home, when I saw the people I loved the most, my parents, be real, I felt free somehow.
在家里，我看到我最爱的父母，他们很真实，不知怎么的，我就会感觉很自在。
It wasn’t always pretty but at least it felt safe, like this is a place where we can be ourselves.
真实不见得都很美好，但至少让我感到安全，在这个地方，我们可以做自己。
But in 2020, when the pandemic hit the planet, we all started questioning what home meant.
但，2020 年，当疫情席卷全球，我们都开始质疑家的意义是什么。
My parents were architects -- are architects, so they also added to what I felt home was to my definition of home.
我的父母是建筑师——现在仍然是，所以他们也扩充了我对家的感受、我对家的定义。
Because before following my own dreams -- being a filmmaker -- I was a good daughter, a good girl, and I followed my father’s dreams and I studied architecture and finished.
因为，在追寻我自己的梦想之前——我梦想成为电影工作者——我是个好女儿，好女孩，追寻的是我爸爸的梦想，我攻读建筑，也完成了学业。
And what I learned in architecture school is how much you can learn about people, about their story, about societies through the spaces that they inhabit, through every object, every frame, every wall, through the ground, through the streets.
我在建筑学校里学到的是，你可以了解很多关于人的事、关于他们的故事、关于社会，这些都存在于他们居住的空间中、在每样物品、每个相框、每面墙中，在地面上，在街道上。
But what do you do when you feel like the ground on which you’re standing might not hold?
但，当你觉得你脚下的地板或许撑不住时，你该怎麽做？
In the world of today, filled with political instability, climate disasters, where our spaces are constantly ravaged and threatened, how do you create a sense of home?
现今的世界充斥著政治的不稳定、气候变迁，而我们的空间经常被蹂躏及威胁，你要如何创造出家的感觉？
In 2020 when the pandemic hit, we all felt -- or at least those of us lucky enough to have homes -- we all went inside, and that became our safe space.
2020 年，疫情爆发时，我们都觉得——或至少我们当中很幸运有家的那些人——我们都进到家中，家变成我们的安全空间。
The outside world became the threat: the air, the people.
外面的世界变成是威胁：空气、人。
This invisible monster was outside.
这隐形的怪兽就在外头。
But as long as you were tucked in your bubble, you were safe.
但，只要躲在你的泡泡里，你就是安全的。
And I’m talking about those of us who are lucky enough not to live locked with an abuser, victims of domestic abuse.
我指的这些人是被关在家里时，很幸运家中没有虐待者，不是家暴受害者。
So for those of us, the safe bubble was inside. Or so we thought.
对我们这些人而言，安全泡泡是在家里。或至少我们这样认为。
