It is late afternoon, and the crowds have thinned. The moted light is yellow like an ancient page, and the air hangs thick with the press of centuries. Somewhere in the middle, the old mosque erupts into a great white confection of Renaissance cathedral - but it is the serene shadows of the Umayyad twilight that draw me: the vast prayer hall with its dense columns and arches and, at the far end, the quiet gleam of the qibla wall.
No comments:
Post a Comment