Silent streets, dark, not a glimmer of light filters through the lowered shutters. Cafes, restaurants, closed shops, abandoned. Zero traffic. Only at the crossroads do the patrols of the Kurdish military meet: together women and men in uniform, with the guns around their necks, the giberne heavy with ammunition and grenades. The lit walkie talkies connected to the controls. Ready for everything. Until two days ago here were over half a million inhabitants, from this morning we are halved. Those who can take the family and take them to their home village, away from urban centers and from the border with Turkey, certainly beyond the 30 kilometers of the "security belt" proclaimed by that criminal Erdogan, says in unison a small group of Christian elders Assyrians sitting and sipping tea at the entrance of Al Salam hospital. Speaking back to the surface the composite reality of the largest city of Rojava (the autonomous Kurdish area), inhabited above all by Christians faithful to the Assad regime, despite everything. The soldiers of Damascus in the districts of the center and on the border closed with Turkey, quiet, await.