Love Always Wins
Love Always Wins
They didn't have to choose love. They chose it anyway.
sent by Krystal Chryssomallis | June 15, 2026
"They didn't have to choose love. They chose it anyway."
Hi Friend,
There are moments in life when you think you understand what you are building.
You think you are building a show. Or a career. Or a night people will remember. And then something happens that makes you realize the thing you were really building was something much bigger than what was on the surface.
I had one of those moments in Tunisia. And I have never looked at my work — or at love — the same way since.
In July of 2014, we were scheduled to perform at the International Festival of Carthage in Tunisia. It was Ramadan, and Tunisia was in a fragile season — finding its way forward after revolution.
And then, just days before the concert, an attack in the Chaambi Mountains happened.
Tunisian soldiers were ambushed by an ISIS-affiliated militant group and fourteen were killed — marking the deadliest attack on the Tunisian army since the country's independence.
The President declared national mourning. And in Tunisia, that means everything stops. The shops close. Public life goes quiet. The entire country pauses together.
And for a while, we did not know if the concert would happen at all.
There are times when cancellation is not only understandable — it is expected. A country is grieving. People are afraid. The natural instinct is to close the doors and no one would have questioned it.
But Tunisia did something I will never forget.
The decision was made to move forward. Not casually, and not because the pain was gone — but because the Tunisian people were not going to let fear have the final word.
When we arrived at the venue to begin setting up, I saw the line outside and thought — how far does this go? So I started walking. And I kept walking. And then I kept walking some more.
The line wrapped and wrapped around the venue farther than any line I had ever seen. I had produced large events before. I had been around crowds, stadiums, festivals, major productions around the world and I had never seen anything like this.
Families were waiting in the heat. Children were there. People were carrying bags and baskets of food, having arrived several hours early, long before the show was supposed to begin. And what struck me most was not only the size of the crowd. It was the feeling of the crowd. No one was irritated or impatient. No complaints. They were just there — together — smiling, waiting, holding their place in that long line as if the act of showing up itself already meant something.
Because it did.
By the time they entered the ancient Roman amphitheater, the venue was packed so tightly that people were sitting shoulder to shoulder on continuous stone tiers — no aisles, no easy way in or out — with barely room to move. And still, there was no tension. No pushing. No sense of this is mine or you are in my way.
The concert was happening during Ramadan, and the Tunisian people had arrived early and brought food to break their fast, together. And as the time came, they started passing food over each other's heads. A basket would begin at the top of the amphitheater and travel hand to hand, person to person, all the way down through the crowd toward whoever needed it. Someone would reach up. Someone else would pass it along. Another person would lean over to help. No announcement. No instruction.
Just people taking care of each other because that is what needed to be done.
Before a single note had been played, and long before it even got dark, the chanting began.
It started as a low rumble. Then it grew. And grew. And grew. It felt less like a concert audience and more like a soccer match — there was a deep roar moving through the ancient space. There was absolutely nothing happening on the stage, no pre-show, no opening act, nothing to react to. They were not waiting to be entertained. They were alive.
Backstage, everyone could hear them. The energy was extraordinary, but there was also a practical concern — they were going to wear themselves out before the show even began. So at some point the thought was: maybe someone should go out there and get them to calm down just enough so they would still have energy for the concert.
So I walked out onto the stage and I just stood there… And I did absolutely nothing.
Because there was no way anyone was going to get the Tunisian people to stop.
Little did we understand — that what we thought was loud cheering in the beginning was just them getting warmed up.
When the show finally began, they absolutely did not tire. They erupted. Song after song, the energy only grew. The entire amphitheater seemed to lift. They sang, chanted, clapped, cheered, roared.
They filled that ancient space with love — with unity, with strength, with pride. The Tunisian people touched me deeply. They taught me what unity feels like. They showed me what's possible when people come together. And they carried an abundance of love. Music truly is a universal language. And when used with love, it is one of the most healing and powerful forces we have.
I knew then that my mission in this world wasn't about producing shows or events. It was about creating experiences that mattered — that connect deeply and bring people together.
The Tunisian people showed me that clearly — in a way I will never forget.
The following year, the Tunisian National Dialogue Quartet was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for building democracy through peaceful dialogue during one of the most fragile chapters in their country's history. In the ceremony, the committee quoted these words: "Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."
That is what I witnessed in that amphitheater.
That is what thousands of people chose.
That is what this photograph holds.
And it is what I still think about when the world feels heavy, when people feel divided, when everything around us seems to be saying — close your heart, turn away, stay small.
What would change if you chose love first?
With love,
Krystal ♥️
About the Newsletter
Dose of Good is a weekly newsletter for people who want to live with more awareness, connection, and intention.
Each issue includes one distilled insight, one real-world example, and one grounded question to carry into your week.
A moment to pause.
A shift in perspective.
A reminder of the beauty and connection that already exists.