I once woke up in a city full of love, full of hope, full of dreams.
Dazzled by the sun during the day and illuminated through the windows of the lively homes when the night came. It was crowded with its people, drawing a melody with their laughter, swaying a helping hand without expecting anything in return.
I once walked in a city where the old met the new and the cars’ horns echoed in between the cracks of the beautiful fortified citadel squeezing through the old souk.
I once grew up in a city that awakened all my senses, leaving a print on my memories. The long mawal’s of Sabah Fakhri and the singing accent of the citizens including mine. The smell of the spices tickling my nose a little every time I passed by « souk el 3eterin ». The thousands types of dishes displayed during every feast, a reminder of the generosity of the residents.
I once got raised in a city where the bells of the church ringed along with the call of the muezzin and Christmas and Eid felt like a celebration for everybody.
I once landed in Aleppo.
I once recognized my city.