Today, Syria resembles a shattered porcelain vase undergoing Kintsugi -- the Japanese art of repairing pottery with gold -- where every crack stands as a reminder of past trauma.

by Hummam Sheikh Ali

DAMASCUS, June 8 (Xinhua) -- Syria's interim period resembles a fragile seedling pushing through rocky soil -- full of promise but in urgent need of care and protection from harsh elements.

Six months have passed since the fall of Bashar al-Assad's regime and the emergence of interim authorities. Public sentiment over these past months has been decidedly mixed.

Initially, fear and anticipation dominated. In February, violent clashes broke out between interim security forces and Druze gunmen in a Damascus suburb. The following month, sectarian violence erupted in Alawite-majority towns along the coast.

These incidents reveal the fragility of Syria's social fabric. A single rumor was enough to spark deadly violence, causing heavy casualties and profound anxiety.

Adding to the unease are frequent Israeli incursions into Syrian territory. Far from being abstract geopolitical maneuvers, these violations directly affect local perceptions of safety and stability.

Sectarian divisions, historical grievances, and cycles of retaliation remain ever-present threats to lasting peace. During this delicate stage of rebuilding, even a social media post, a stray missile, or a rumor, can undo months of hard-won progress.

Today, Syria resembles a shattered porcelain vase undergoing Kintsugi -- the Japanese art of repairing pottery with gold -- where every crack stands as a reminder of past trauma.

Time may heal wounds, but for now, survival and daily life take precedence. Though Western sanctions were lifted in May, economic recovery remains elusive.

Walking through Damascus's bustling markets ahead of Eid al-Adha, I saw crowded streets -- but little actual commerce.

Prices are inflated by 30 to 40 percent above their dollar value, severely eroding purchasing power. Essential goods and services remain prohibitively expensive, especially for public-sector employees and families dependent on remittances.

"There's some activity, but it's nowhere near what it should be," said Abu Jawad, a clothing shop owner. "People feel safer now, and there's optimism. Yet the economy hasn't caught up. I remain hopeful -- we all do -- that better days are coming."

Others are more blunt.

"Those who say everything is fine speak only from their own comfort," said Abu Khaled Khattab, a souvenir vendor in Damascus's al-Midan district. Sipping tea, he reflected that a "good situation" depends mainly on one's financial stability.

Still, many Syrians express cautious optimism, urging patience with the new authorities. They live on faith, clinging to hope for peace and prosperity.

For Omar al-Shami, who was shopping for vegetables, the sluggish economy isn't surprising.

"Work is still scarce. It's too early," he explained. "Just as pregnancy takes nine months, this new phase needs time to bear fruit. Meeting basic needs is hard, but at least we have peace of mind now. Hope is finally tangible."

Perhaps Syria's economy simply needs more time. Recovery cannot be rushed; like Kintsugi, each repair must be done with care and patience.

Yet, from my vantage point here in Damascus, economic improvements alone won't suffice.

Equally critical is preserving Syria's social contract and maintaining civil peace -- the invisible threads binding society together after 14 years of war, displacement, and economic devastation.