QUSAIR, Syria — A city that lies in rubble, where ghosts and soldiers share the deserted streets and where dead bodies lie. Qusair, the Stalingrad of Syria, the revolution's fallen icon and the regime's turning point. From north to south, east to west, it is obvious that the city is under the regime's full control. Soldiers can be seen everywhere doing all that comes to mind: cleaning, searching, eating, singing, blazing and looting. Nothing here indicates that life will go back to normal soon; there is no sign of civilians except a few dozen who returned to check on their homes and some civil workers who were sent to the city to inspect its needs 24 hours after its fall.

Indeed, there is no sign of civilians — those tens of thousands who used to live in the city, according to official records. In fact, it is now obvious that there were only a small number of civilians in Qusair — those were close relatives to opposition fighters, who fled with them the day the city fell.

In the city center a large clock is still standing; this is ironic as it seems that the "clock" wants to tell people that the history of nations never falls. A few meters away a church can be seen — a sad church that not only lost its worshippers but had its statue of the Holy Mary uprooted and hymnbooks scattered on the ground.

The entire scene I'm witnessing is dramatic; still, the main question remains: How did Qusair fall?