My heart was mercilessly ripped out of my chest the very second I turned my back on her to walk through the tunnel, to walk towards the light, the light that never warms.
I walked with head bowed, surrounded by an aura of neither regret nor shame, as it was only mere grief, grief that almost stripped me off my pride forcing silent tears of nostalgia to flow massively down my dry-as-a-bone face.

“Damascus”, the lady whom I adored and still do with every single breath and every heart beat.
The lady whom I shared with my dear magnificent ups, all along with my excruciating downs.
The lady that I left behind cradling the greatest people on earth, my family and friends, knowing quite well that she will be comforting them enough by holding them tight and telling them that I will be back for them with bags full of adventures and a little experience.

I wasn’t sure if that moment was a beginning of a breathtaking dream or just a big hole swallowing me into a never-ending malicious nightmare, but all I knew that it was a terrible moment, as terrible as the moment when I kissed my Dad good bye into his grave, after 26 years away from the second he kisses my forehead good night for the first time into my cradle.

Thank you all, my precious Dad’s soul, my most favorite two precious ladies, my close precious friends, and everyone who ever looked at me with a gesture of respect, love, appreciation, and even envy.
Thank you sincerely for being there to give me the reason to come back home, and to actually have a home in the first place…

All of those feelings were kept safely in my right pocket as I rushed to be treated as a Syrian citizen for the last time before a year passes by at least.
I jumped on the plane with a struggle within, almost had a heart attack by a catatonic overload, before remembering that my heart s not with me anymore, my heart is still “en guard” in Damascus.

I looked back and I said “À bientôt”, paused for a second then shook my head and said…
“بـشـوف وشّـــك بـخـيــر يــا شــــام”