stroll with me, if you will. i know you have a busy schedule, but i'm
sure you can find the time. we're going to make a city together.
we'll start by mixing Paris and Cairo into a swirling hot-city-fudge
until neither is defined, and take it from there.
we'll make a city that is eternally young, yet embodies a plethora of
ages. it will be embedded as the oldest continuously inhabited city in
history. we'll stay true to Hippodamus of Miletus' original dream of
order and regularity, but not too much. we still want to get lost in a
leisurely stroll, smell aromas we cannot place and eat foods we cannot
pronounce. we'll fuse Aramaic and Greek foundations, create something
with a Roman flavour, then morph it anew with an Islamic theme. We'll
clothe the city's mosques in prison-striped pyjamas in metophorical
contrast to the minaret's green haze symbolizing paradise. as homage
to our city's foundations, we'll dot various Christian churches
throughout, but give some Islamic-influenced architecture. We'll make
sure the traffic tries to be chaotic, but only just enough to make
everyone giggle. To keep it in line will be traffic cops in tight
black pants and white motorbike helmets, waving their magic
orange-white striped traffic control sticks, which just scream "Hello
Sailor!". we'll stand roadside and wait for the Village People to
arrive. we'll stock the food market with vendors who delight in our
custom, but refuse to accept any money. we'll employ a freshman art
student to paint all the pickled vegetables more fluorescent than
flourescent dares. bring sunglasses. we won't skimp on sprinkling Good
Will powder throughout all the Souks, and jumble them amongst ruins of
temples to Roman Gods. we'll add an Arabic story-teller to the
Narguileh bar behind the Grand Mosque. we'll flood our newly aged
city with beautiful women bearing eyes of fire who know what a figure
means. the men with be adorned with POWER MULLETS; forget business in
front, party out back, these will be all Stealth at the fore and
nothing but POWER from then on back. Heracles was born in the wrong
age, if he had worn a POWER MULLET, the Nemean Lion would have succumb
on sight, no strangling required. we will stroll our streets with the
most tightly manicured beards our barber friends can administer. the
beards themselves will be razor sharp. we'll wash our efforts down
with fresh-squeezed pomegranate and strawberry juice. as our city
breathes its life upon us, we'll gasp in awe at our creation, stop
wondering where it starts and where it ends, slink back out of a
side-alley, then jump into a passing minbus to a distant place.
i've scoped out Damascus for us. just let me know when you'll get in.
I'll be at the juice stall on the left sporting a tightly manicured
beard, covered in red, POWER MULLET in the making.
hugs and love from Syria
Joe
