These pictures are things I came across – things that speak of war, and of people, and they have nothing to do with heritage, but it felt wrong just to let them slip past without comment…
I’m starting with my favourite. I think it’s a lovely picture. When I saw it, I thought of the words of Gertrude Bell (1907)
“No words can convey the charm of it, nor the magic of the Syrian Spring”.
And by all accounts, it should be magical, not the horrible Arabic spring we think of now…
In the background is Crac Des Chevalier, which Lawrence of Arabia described as
“perhaps the best preserved and most wholly admirable castle in the world”
This is what the Syrian spring ought to mean…
This one, I think, really captures the strength of human spirit – a little girl sat in the rubble with her book, carrying on…
An approximate translation of the accompanying text (thank you Google!)
“Amid the devastation,
holding a pen and booklet,
and drowning in her world away from everything that surrounds them…
She is the pen…
But enough they look to have learned
It is full of steadfastness and perseverance … The challenge … And determination
is the seat of the strongest schools…
And in Homs, during a blockade which has lasted for more than a hundred days, children collect bread in the rubble.
The accompanying text reads “Did humanity die or chivalry become extinct?”
This one I’m not going to post. It’s graphic, but no-where near as graphic as many of the pictures I’ve seen today of death, mutilation and devastation. It stands as a testament to all of the dead and dying I saw today: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10152232509875727&set=a.10150397575815727.619133.420796315726&type=1&relevant_count=1&ref=nf
And all the dead were someone’s loved one. This one struck me because of the accompanying text… (according to Bing and Google translate – it’s probably not very accurate, but I think the sentiment is carried)
“A small single-bud … I have offered to her love and affection, and she grows up to its viewers every day. Even the blooming spring aroma smells of of Yasmina Hamia.
She did not know that bullets of treachery would be closer to her dreams … And that someday those tears that have stayed shed, will be in an hour farewell tears and pain. Goodbye for ever.
~The parent of the martyr Captain Abir Subhi the 36 year old … Deposited by her daughter, who cited a sniper in Damascus on Thursday 20/9/2012….
And lastly, for all the little children, because she is so small, and so cute, and she could be anyone’s child…
“And still to the daughter of detainee Chaabal Ibrahim, awaiting the resturn of her father who was kidnapped by a gang of terrorists a year ago. ”
I don’t really know what the point of this post is, other than it’s too much to keep inside my head on its own.