This is not a pretty photo, One of those travel postcards, But this photo tells a story:
Still, June 2019, There were fighting in some parts of the country. WE COLE IN DAMASCO, Syria, Like two intruders who get to wander through war. We were tourists, or journalists disguised as tourists, And we find a dead city eager to revive. We were the only tourists who walked the streets. Of shops, When they saw us pass, People who gave us the "thank you" came out for returning and they told us "welcome". The Great Damascus, The city that will conquer Alexander the Great, Aramea y asiria, With its Roman columns, His Umayyad palaces, its Christian churches and their Shiite and Sunnian mosques, It was a maze. Soldiers, After their fences and submachine guns, They drank or coffee with the disinterest of a life that had already rotted their souls. The people seemed anxious to give them the opportunity to remember free. The markets smelled of mint and old leather. The museums languished. The coffees had their dry glasses.
And then we saw that car parked on the street, With his huge unicorn inflated, that reminded us that life is still more powerful than death no matter how much satraps and extremists insist. That at least I have learned traveling and informing about this world. Always, always, There is someone in the midst of hell that invents colored unicorns. That allows them to survive.
