And what’s his name, who was put down in his drawers, asleep, at the Gate of Damascus; don’t you see him!
There are no more uses of "Damascus" in the book.
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And as an ongoing prospect, after Amsterdam, which was really my Damascus, the way station and apogee of my Conversion as I guess you’d call it, I continue to be immensely moved by the impermanence of hotels: not in any mundane Travel-and-Leisure way but with a fervor bordering on the transcendent.
Donna Tartt -- The Goldfinch
In between Manaar and the application are the two weeks I spent in Damascus, of which I have virtually no memory other than the grinning faces of two women with heavily lined eyes and a gold tooth each.