“Ziad Khoury” writes: Damascus, 1988. Plainclothes security personnel hover constantly around the main entrance of an elegant residential building. There are whispers that an “important” German fugitive lives on the second floor. As teenagers back then, whenever we got too close to that building, the security officers would order us to disperse, warning that only residents were allowed on the sidewalk. The shutters were always closed, but occasionally, the occupant of that sunless flat would come out for a walk, passing a popular shawarma restaurant that faced his building. He would then walk up to Arnous Square and pass the...