After two weeks of being totally locked up in my apartment with as much closed windows as possible, because of the unpreceded campaign of Hawn missiles that are hitting almost every day lately, latterly just "around the corner". I gathered myself and went out, I walked down the street to catch the sky at the end of it, right in front of me. At that crossroad you don't need to left your head up much to see it. The streets start to decline slightly and buildings are low and divergent, with white jasmine bushes dangling out of their walls.
I saw the sky, which we Syrians don't trust anymore: at each cross road people will catch a glimpse of what used to be another neighborhood and has become now the frontier of the racked parts. They'll stretch their necks a bit to see the remains of what has become the conflict areas. Right down those roads you can see a surreal scene: a frame of normal city road with an end image towards the crumbles of cement and blocks trying to climb the skyline.
This sky: it can't be trusted, you may look "it in the eye" and get a missile or at least a bullet, to imagine, just like in movies when you watch one heading towards the camera you're looking through, the only difference that in reality you don't see it until it hits. This light blue with a touch of gray is very ambiguous. We Syrians have a new relationship with it that is very different from everybody else now.
I saw the sky, the same sky I see in the eyes of the aged children of Syria; this ambiguity that carries all the burdens of life inside at such a young age, they don't shine anymore. I can't look them in the eye, they don't look like children anymore, they seem very old, not mature, just old. This sky that I saw after a long time of avoiding, the same kind of avoiding of those eyes, I looked at it and I started to cry; walking down that open street, staring at it and cry, I didn't feel scared, I felt peace.
I know now that if I'm ever going to plan a home I would never let go off this sky, I won't let it hide between high skyscrapers and condensed buildings. I'll definitely find a creative way to overcome the land and population formula and never lose touch with my sky. I'm sure that every Syrian misses the sky, however, I'm not sure if he/she would be ready to open up to it, or they'll still think it's too unpredictable.