DAMASCUS, Syria—
At the far end of Damascus where blood rivers run red and the streets are all filled with remains of the dead, once lived the Lorax.
The Lorax was peaceful, performing his trade. From truffula trees woven baskets he made.
Life had been quiet until one Arab Spring, when violence and chaos a revolution did bring. The streets that were lined with fig trees and palms now were all filled with bullets and bombs.
