Fifth Journey Day 120: Collision of Dust and Voice

Date: September 5, 2025
Location: Idlib, Syria

In Idlib, Syria, the souks carry the region’s agricultural pulse—olives and figs, open-air stalls, and a dry breeze that tastes faintly of orchards. I walked the market lanes under a warm, hazy sky, letting the textures of trade and conversation set the pace.

Hazy Morning in the Idlib Market

The day started with the sound of people's voices as they walked through the small streets. I went to Idlib through its markets. I moved slowly and didn't have a plan, other than to look and listen. Stalls selling figs, apples, and olives lined the way. Their colors were muted by dust, but they stood out against the pale haze above. The air felt sharp, warm, and sweet. I noticed how people's hands moved quickly — weighing fruit, tying bags, passing coins — while their faces showed a different kind of rhythm. There was no rush, only persistence.

Gestures Like Small Languages

I stopped often, not to buy, but to watch. One boy threw an apple in the air, more out of habit than play. A woman gently pressed figs, her fingertips testing their softness as though she were reading something invisible. These gestures stayed with me more than the fruit itself. Each one was like a small language.

Wind, Dust, and the City’s Layered Sound

The city felt layered, with its sounds merging yet still holding together. I thought about how different it is from the coast, where you can always hear the sea. Here, you can feel the air and the dust. The wind blew on and off, making me blink because it felt dry. Then it stopped so quickly that I barely noticed.

Choosing Stillness Over Sketching

By the time the sun went down, the light had gotten weaker, but the haze made it look dull and fragile. I didn't take any sketches with me today, but I still remember the colors, though they're not as bright because of all the dust and how they've been touched. Maybe it was enough just to walk and pay attention — to let the market's movement sink in without needing to write it down. Today, it felt more like I was being influenced by other people's actions than creating something myself.

Travel Notes

• Weather: Warm, 30°C; hazy skies; dry bursts of breeze carrying dust and the faint sweetness of fruit.
• Scents: Ripe figs and apples, briny olives, and sun-warmed dust mingling in the lanes.
• Sounds: Steady voices, the soft clink of coins, bags rustling, a quick flick of scales, wind rising and falling.
• Reflection: Letting the market’s movements shape me felt like its own form of making—attention as the day’s only sketch.

Continue the Journey

You may also enjoy the quiet momentum of Fifth Journey Day 116 from Hama, or linger with the warmth of bread and voices in Aleppo on Day 115.