Habibati Dimashq Is Covered in Snow — Damascene Rose



Every single morning starts with the whispering breeze of Damascus.

I literally wake up amidst Damascene Jasmine and Roses Dew, wherever I might physically be.

Let us dwell in the present moment, my dearest.

Close your eyes.

Let us imagine the dew of Damascus:

fragrant bubbles of love spring through 1001 roses, carried away by her one and only, the unmatchable Jasmine breeze.

Can you feel the dew of Damascus?

Oh, do you feel the ease?

I for one do.

I do.

I love ...

I do.


It is amazing how She — the vibrant Capital of Jasmine, seems to cover us in her cloak of love.

Even from afar... the curtain of snow veils Damascus and renders her Light through flakes of light, rolling and rolling into a light ball reaching the threshold of our beings. Here, in Bucharest.


A Conversation via "Wazz Up"

I like to believe that I and my one and only Lady Friend have this bubble of ours.

It’s like a foamy corridor where our hybrid identities talk to each other and meet despite our beings.

Our identities have their own language.

As if... they recognize each other through ...?

Through energy.

Our identities have the same vibrational signature.

She comes from Damascus, like me.

She is the daughter of a Romanian Lady, like me.

And her father is a Syrian Gentleman of my father's generation. I dare say... No, I must say a generation of authentic, beautiful, gifted, and trustworthy gentlemen.

Somehow, our identities talk to each other,  telepathically. Even when we don't make use of the written or spoken word.

Do you think that stemming from the same city creates a magical aisle where communication without turbulences becomes possible?

Or, perhaps, we hybrid children have a certain degree of telepathy?

IT can't be.

Rather, I like to believe that we, souls alike, are tied by the magical thread of feeling. Hence our thread turns into an aisle where the magic happens.

It's 2022... it must be snowing with flakes of magic. Already.

The Brand New Year must be awaiting us with a box full of surprises.

And Damascus, today, is covered by the white curtain of magic.

Al Baraka!

By God, may the curtain of abundance, love, and betterment cover us all.

May the snowflakes of Mercy and Humanity snow over Damascus, over every inch of Syria, and every other war-torn region throughout the world.

And over Romania.
Over your country.

.... (please feel free to add up with me)

and every single hidden corner of the globe.


Many peoples of the Arab countries, from Arabia to the Levant, from Damascus to Oman, and so on, are singing and dancing under the snowflakes.

They are enjoying … the snow, to the fullest!

And dearest inhabitants of Bucharest, do you remember the time when our winters would be warmed by the joy of snow?

Even the weather has turned its coordinates upside down.

See? It's the magic of 2022, baby! It's snowing over the veils of the desert...

Embrace the snow! Embrace the love!

And back to the conversation with my lady friend, that is with your permission:


"Wazz Up", Today Morning, 09:12 a.m.

Photo of Damascus covered in snow

"It has snowed over Damascus", reads the message from my lady friend.

"Babes, you have got to give me the source of the photo. And I mean -- pronto."

And she's like: "It's the street right across our House." She means in the here and now. Her beloved father is there, as we speak.


And she's here in Bucharest, my lady friend.

I am here too.

And though miles away, so is Damascus...

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