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 
people 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…
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Al-Must'arib (the vocational Mossarab) 