Old Quebec

Yesterday, a friend of mine showed me photos from his visit to Old Quebec City. He repeated to me the question I grew accustomed to in Canada: “Have you visited Old Quebec City?". I have written to you about the cities I had visited. This city I had not. Many people recommended to me to do so, including Bishop Alexander Mufarrij, the cultured pastor. As a passerby, I gave you my opinion on the cities I visited. Literally, I said that they "cover their newness with old grandmother's clothes". In Canada, or let me say, in the expanse that I knew, there is no old city like Beirut, Damascus, and Athens... Yesterday, the photos confirmed to me, once again, what I had told you. I am not looking down upon beauty that does not need my testimony. What I am saying is that the old is an appearance; it is a metaphor. I promised my friend, if I had the opportunity, to visit the city. I am not talking about a desire in me, but about continuing what I have not yet completed. There are people, of my flesh and blood, whom I urge to do what my friend had done; to return to our old cities.