The traffic is at a standstill in Hamra, Beirut. A tall, tan man walks unhurriedly on the cluttered sidewalk. A song begins to play: funky riffs and a strange, husky voice singing in Arabic, “If a disaster befalls you, that’s okay. Keep going, don’t worry. Remember that camels are the greatest, and only elephants fly.” The man arrives at a public beach and is greeted as Munir by a group of colourful men. Munir’s voice is the one from the song. His niece, Mona, joins him. They swim in the hygienically questionable waters of the Beirut coastline and, after the beach, move on to the rest of Munir’s 20-year-long daily routine. In Munir’s studio, filled with screens, musical instruments, records, and hard drives labelled and numbered, they dive into a world of music, videos, and photos documenting Munir’s life and musical career with Lebanon over the last 60 years as a backdrop. After a chaotic public bus ride, Mona and Munir part ways. He goes home for the evening part of his routine while she meets friends at a bar. A song by Munir starts playing on the speakers, encapsulating the essence of his quirky vision and their shared day.