I would love to tell her that I need the warmth of her sunrays, the caress of her petals, I must step on her sacred blessed earth to be able to connect to my very essence.

My feet touch her heavenly-like earth so that I be able to enroot to her wisdom, to drink her water of roses – water of life, to be inspired by her dazzling beauty,  to quench my thirst of  knowledge from her wisdom of centuries and my sense of  adventure and discovery.

And yes, Dimashq is still standing. And so does my utmost love for her. The dor ^[1] for my beloved hasn’t diminished, not even a tiny bit.

Thanks to my beloved mom’s womb, I can reach the binoculars and right through her warm umbilicus I have a sight of their seed of love, the commencement of their love story in the bistro opposite to the Romanian Atheneum on its right corner. She is just there standing all dressed up, with her Parisian air, elegant Julieta helping the waiter, who is unable to speak English, take the order from the Damascene gentleman having dinner a few tables away from hers and her friends’.

As I lean my back to one of the columns of our Romanian Atheneum, the sun gently touches my cheek.  I watch the pigeons fly me to the shores of Bosphorus  where they hand me in to the council of seagulls which welcomes me to a land of friendship: Istanbul, my dost^[2] and host, who has taken care of me and enabled me to alleviate my dor for Dimashq and has blessed me with dosts and therefore family for life, my beloved 3^rd hometown.

For love does transcend all boundaries. She is innate in Damascus, flourishes in Bucharest, effervesces in Istanbul, spiritualizes in India… She is a citizen of the world!

^[1] An untranslatable word in Romanian which means missing someone or a place very much, a word full of depth and signification.

^[2]Dost = friend for life in Turkish.