Mosul Eye – I lost all hope in any thing, I lost the feeling of…

I reviewed what I reported as news and documentation of the events in the city over the past year, not because I am an obliged Mosuli citizen who feels entrusted with his city, but more because I’m a truth seeker, pursuing it with every bit of passion for life I got in me, I realized that continuing in doing what I’m doing is utter waste, because I wasn’t fighting ISIL only, but I was fighting against an entire society with its heritage, a heritage that goes hundreds of years back.

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Mosul Eye – I lost all hope in any thing, I lost the feeling of….

The Prophet. (Pablo Gargallo)

If you want to go on, you just need to focus

Levant woman

Just a normal morning… I woke up, had my shower, picked up my stuff, and went out. Just when I reached the door I remembered my silver bracelet that was given to me from someone I love very much… I thought it would look nice with my white formal blouse. I am going tonight to a concert in the opera house after I finish my work and I need to look elegant. I got back, put on my bracelet and headed out fast enough to reach on time. Just when I reached my office I noticed that my bracelet is not in my hand! Oh!! What a morning! Where is it! I can’t lose it is very very valuable to me, it means a lot! I felt that this day couldn’t get any worse. I looked everywhere in my bag but couldn’t find anything. That made me so sad that…

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From Diyarbikkir to Lalish: Walking in the Footsteps of Genocide

“That evening, I found myself exhausted both physically and mentally. But there was one place I still had to visit, an old pedestrian bridge that I describe in my novel.  I thought I would spend some quiet time there, but a wedding was being celebrated on the bridge’s top. The ten- arched bridge, “On Guzlu Copry,” was built by the bishop of Diyarbakkir, Yohanna Z’oro, late in the 4th century, so his parish could cross to the other bank of the Tigris and access the Church of 40 Martyrs. I found to my surprise — and dismay — that a plaque placed on the side of the bridge when it was renovated in 2010 claimed it as the first “Islamic” bridge in Anatolia!”

…learn, learn, learn…

ARABLIT & ARABLIT QUARTERLY

Iraqi novelist Layla Qasrany traveled to Turkey to commemorate the Armenian genocide and visit sites that had appeared in her most recent novel. A side-trip into northern Iraq, where she visited a Yazidi shrine, brought depressing and hopeful news of ISIS:

By Layla Qasrany

Diyarbakir, Turkey

Diarbakýr, Turkey

We say in Arabic that there are five benefits to travel. No one seems to know just what these are, but I derived many benefits from a trip I took recently. The journey began with my arrival in southern Turkey to attend the commemoration of the centennial of the Armenian genocide, in which we paid tribute to the million-plus souls deported from Diyarbakkir who consequently died in the desert of Syria.  One benefit was that I got to walk in the path of the caravan I depicted in my latest Arabic novel.

The first thing I did on the 23rd of April was…

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All About Damascus, a Sign of Normal Life

Sweden and the Middle East Views

War may torment larger parts of Syria and the Middle East, but few signs of the beautiful country that once was and in some places still is, exists and pops up like butterflies here and there. One of them is the Facebook page All About Damascus, a page that started before the war, in 2010, and that is still going strong.

Today, on July 13, the page uploaded a few photos from the every day life in the colourful city of Damascus, the life that is still going on despite the war.

In the politicised debate over Syria, some might say this page is a part of the regime’s propaganda to show that they are able to reign over some parts of the country, that they are able to keep some of the city calm. But I would prefer to say it might as well be a sign of normal life…

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a post that has no title, and no meaning

Levant woman

I am leaving this country as soon as possible…

A thought that filled my mind for moments. I don’t remember how many seconds or minuets or maybe hours I heard this sentence swinging between my ears,  In that place where I used to have a clear brain and smart ideas while now it looks exactly like Damascus; a complex of unfitting elements and colorless buildings.

I am leaving… somehow somewhere. I only have this will now that is not figured out. It hit me just when I was running down the street of Babtooma (the old city) praying to god despite my agnostic belief to live one more day. I heard the noise of mortars near, I held my breath and held my friend’s hand. She told me that’s normal don’t worry it always happens here. I looked around, the streets were not crowded as always and there were that…

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