As i tow sunset with me into Mesopotamia, it tries to hide behind a
patchwork of dust masking the horizon. I help it in this masquerade
with a cloud of sweet narguilah smoke. A city hums across the river
somewhere. A city in modern guise, its own masquerade, hidden far
enough from The Tourist Trail and The Rest of The World to evolve its
own blend of dusty charm contrast against green eloquence. I failed
yet again today in attempt to leave this place.
I have traversed the pedestrian Golden Gate bridge countless times,
with as much effort to leave as the water birds that kick sporadically
against the flow of the Euphrates as they float downstream to meet the
Tigris. The melting sun ricochets off the water and is hot on my face.
It does this deliberately in countenance to the soothing air that
limps in across the river. Narguilah on the banks of the Euphrates.
Paradise has a sweet aroma and plays songs of serenity from the beaks
of its water birds.
hugs and love from Syria
joe
