From my sketchbook: Damascus


Just outside the entry to the Umayyad Mosque in old town Damascus. As the bells for noon prayer sound out across the city, the streets quickly empty, leaving a convoluted tapestry of urban fabric. Power lines, phone lines and washing lines are strung out across the street; courageous vines crawl up the cracks between buildings; shadows are sharp, unsullied by the softening effect of clouds; brightly coloured souvenirs clash with the subdued desert shades of the walls.

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