Douma, Al-Gelaa Street, Summer 2015: Tea vendor Abou Kasim shortly before he was killed in a cluster bomb attack that hit his small store.
Douma, Winter 2018: A child holds a loaf of bread in front of his face – a little bit of bread is a little bit of happiness.
Mesraba Souq, Summer 2017: Shortly after, early 2018, the Souq was completely destroyed.
Ain Tarma, Eastern Ghouta, Fall 2016: Abou Mahrous makes bread from barley after he lost his wheat crop during the siege of Ghouta by the regime forces.
Douma, Al-Quwatli Street, Summer 2017: Houssam sells corn from a vending cart to support his family.
Douma, the Great Mosque: Abou Mahjoub is selling juices made from dried fruits that he stored before the siege of Eastern Ghouta.
Frontline of the National Highway Damascus-Homs, Ramadan 2017: Abou Mohammad, a fighter of the Free Syrian Army, sits on the spot where that marks the borderline to the Syrian Regime forces.
Frontline of the National Highway Damascus-Homs, Ramadan 2017: A meal prepared for four fighters of the FSA.
Frontline of the National Highway Damascus-Homs, Ramadan 2017: A meal prepared for four fighters of the FSA.
Douma, Al-Quwatli Street, Winter 2016: Abou Mahmoud is making tea, sitting on the street under shellings of cluster and vacuum bombs. His son was killed in the beginning of 2018 during the last attack on Douma. His whole family suffered burn injuries from napalm bombs dropped over the city.

Doha Hassan - Videographer

The parts of Aleppo I visited in 2013 resembled that of a disheveled, upturned bowel, as did many other areas of the city which had become frontlines in the battle between the regime and anti-regime “liberation” forces. Bedrooms, living rooms, bathrooms, water and electricity networks, clothes and children’s toys, books, and strewn pieces of paper. You could see everything without even having to step foot inside the buildings. As you walked from one street to the next, you would feel as though you were invading the personal stories and daily lives of their residents, passing through their rooms and over their personal belongings scattered here and there between the rubble caused by explosions and the remnants of bombs. And all the while you would listen to the distant sounds of snipers' bullets which echoed through the streets from the other side of the city. The experience was the same throughout the country, just as it was for Syrians both inside Syria and in the diaspora. Raqqa, however, had a somewhat different story at the time. In 2013, a counter-revolution took place in the Syrian province of Raqqa after its liberation from the Syrian regime. Everything the city witnessed could be foretold from the graffiti on its walls depicting the battle between civilian rebel groups and armed militant groups, to the juxtaposition of the Independence flag and the black flag of Jihad, to the revolutionary slogans in contrast to the names of militant groups like “Jabhat al-Nusra” and “Ahrar al-Sham”. This is exactly what life was like in this liberated city. Ahmed, one of the demonstrators in Raqqa, told us that on the 4th March 2013, groups of heavily armed, masked men, stormed the city chanting, 'Our eternal leader is our master Muhammad,' and shouting the religious slogan “takbeer” in unison. He added, “At the time we were thrilled to see the moment in which members of the army and security forces were forced to flee the city, but this happiness vanished instantly once we began searching, in vain, for the Independence flag among the liberators, causing us to march towards the Dallah Roundabout chanting 'We are not Sunni, we are not Alawite, the Syrian people are united' We did not realize at the time that those who had risen to liberate our city would in fact end up being the ones to occupy it.”

Doha Hassan - Videographer

Mohamad Blakah - Videographer

"It’s early December 2012, one year after I left my home and my city Damascus in Syria. More than a year had gone by while I had been waiting in exile. The once peaceful revolution had turned violent, being drawn into armed clashes by the regime. The number of casualties and detainees was rising, as violence took over. I was watching everything from outside of my country’s borders – a cursed country- helplessly. I decided to go to northern Syria, to the region around Idlib and Aleppo, where the Free Syrian Army had expelled all regime forces and had taken control. I was hoping to once again find my role in this revolution, just like before it had turned violent. But unlike the beginning of the revolution, we weren’t united, our demands and slogans not in unison as before, and I found myself unable to carry on for long. The peace that we were seeking had long been buried under rubble next to the bodies of our martyrs. Our dignity, that we were so proud of was quickly replaced by the humiliation of hunger and siege. I filmed many rebels during that time in northern Syria to document what was happening around us. Or maybe I filmed them just to remember - because nothing of what was happening around us happened without being clear to everyone. And because most of them were killed and became martyrs themselves."

Mohamad Blakah - Videographer