Through all my moments of hope, I get those moments of grief. And, my heart burns while my eyes are overflowed with tears like the ocean reaching the shore. My eyes cry the jasmin scent of the country, the honking sound of the cars in every street. It cries life, the life of my people. Those people overdosed with love, pride and tenderness, facing a war full of inhumanity, clashing with their kindness. Getting up to a cloudy day, I find myself complaining forgetting it’s raining bombs in the place I should be waking. Syria has lost its colors and its streets are covered with the redness of blood but people are restoring faith in humanity everyday by helping each other stand. The Syrian people carry more hope in their hearts than there could ever be, they live under attacks, bombings and cruelty yet have more faith than anyone living under peace and serenity. They keep on walking side by side reminding the world that they stand tall against any fatality with the hope of seeing the sun dazzling on their face again with light and warmth, a reflection of the pureness of their souls full of mercy.