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.