Damascus … simply you

Syria… Damascus… a name as refreshing as a breeze carrying the smell of rain in a starry cold night…

it’s raining here today.. the rain makes me want to cry. A Spaniard friend of mine always wondered why middle eastern 10523170_10205292358498266_3824746113507264245_npeople love the rain this much . he surely never tried walking in the old city when it’s drizzling and bringing all the magical odors from the earth straight to your inner brain cells.. I always felt that cities are alive, they have souls, some are sick souls, some are weak, but the soul of Damascus is like the soul of our first love … it never fades away, it gets back vivid and clear like the very first moment … you live it , then you think you’ll leave peacefully but you find yourself  trapped in the faces of people, in every little detail even the ugly ones, in the faces of beggars of the streets … you suddenly fall in love with the crowded streets and the noises of the hawkers..

Damascus is … Simply Damascus .. the city of magic and passion… a walk from my city to my city (I live in it still)  made me recall all the love I carry though I thought it’s gone … just like the first love…

as we walked in the alleys of the old city, my professor rehearsed a verse by Nizar Qabbani:

The Damascene House
Is beyond the architectural text
The design of our homes…
Is based on an emotional foundation

Damascus top view

Damascus top view

For every house leans… on the hip of another
And every balcony…
Extends its hand to another facing it
Damascene houses are loving houses…
They greet one another in the morning…
And exchange visits… secretly at night 

Al Azm palace

  Al Azm palace

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