The secret of Damascus

Is it the people of Damascus, with their fading smile that fights with the daily difficulties of life in Syria?

Is it the old section of Damascus, with its warm alleys and the smell of the hundreds of years that live among its walls?

Is it the modern part of Damascus, with its random allocations, and the smell of the pollution in the sky?

Is it the human noise in Damascus, with its mixture of all voices, a crying kid, an angry driver, a loud woman, a laughing boy and a shouting old man?

Is it the honks of the vehicles in Damascus, a running car, a stopping bus and an awaiting cab?

Is it the simplicity and the complexity of the life in Damascus, where the two exist under the same roof?

Is it the hangout places in Damascus, with people laughing, eating, playing cards or just simply, staring at each other?

Is it Kassion, the mountain that has been protecting Damascus for ever, with its occasional snow, permanent trees, and dark hideouts that shelter the lovers at night?

I have lived with, in, through all of that, and have been to all and though all of that as well.

The secret in there and the only special thing is Damascus itself. You may find the noise and the people, the old and the modern parts in many places around the world. You will find lots of bigger and higher mountains than Kassion. But they will never feel as they do in Damascus, you will never sense their spirit as you will in Damascus, you will never miss being away from them as you do when you are away from Damascus.

You will only understand what Damascus is, after you have lived there, and then left.