Alive, well, and entirely covered in
mosquito bites in
Aleppo. Oh, except for the places where i have been eaten by
bedbugs. Ick. I am a mass of scratching, but luxuriating in a dose of civilisation (air conditioners! private showers!
loos that flush!) after a few days in
palmyra, walking around the
roman ruins, and way out on the eastern edges of
syria, exploring five thousand year old cities about a hundred kilometres past
the edge of nowhere. I have sat on the top of a 2 millenium old
citadel, with hawks circling below me, with the
Euphrates green-blue and rushing past at the bottom of the cliff. I have got dusty with the broken fragments of ancient
pottery and falling walls of temples of
Ishtar.
I have slept under a full moon, heard bullfrogs and crickets, and had my
hair brushed by the wingtips of a pale owl. I have seen shimmering iridescent green birds. I have drunk a million cups of
tea, and discussed having no babies with every other person I have met.
I have made
origami cranes and peacocks for
seven sisters, and climbed up to the
necropolis to watch the sun rise.
I like it here.