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The entire Al Jazeera crew in Gaza City was assassinated, including its reporters and cameramen:

Reporter: Anas Al-Sharif

Reporter: Mohammed Qreiqah

Cameraman: Ibrahim Zaher

Cameraman: Mo’men Alwiyeh

Crew driver: Mohammed Noufal

Update: Monday, August 11

Anas Al-Sharif was covering the events in Gaza that we live through, and he was conveying our suffering to the world.

Today, who will tell our story? Who will inform you that we are under siege, facing famine, genocide, and blockade?

I am Layan, and my three younger siblings and I are suffering from hunger. Who will carry our voice to the world now?

This is our story for anyone with a compassionate heart who wants to help us.💔

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“We read books and highlight the lines that speak to us, we listen to music and tattoo the lyrics that touch us, we turn to poetry and learn the lines that become us; we’re all hopelessly inept people, struggling in vain to coherently express ourselves. We know what we want to say but we don’t know how.”

— reasons why i write /// ehnigma

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Monologue of a broken little girl

I used to pray every day, crying with devotion.

I read the Qur'an, searching for a home between the lines.

But deep within my soul, I feared God

Feared the image they painted before me:

A god who angers quickly,

Who burns those who don’t believe in Him,

Who punishes, who watches every detail

Even my breaths while I sleep.

Every time I asked, "Why?"

I’d hear their voices, or my own mind would reply:

"Ask for forgiveness. It’s just the devil.

You’ll go to hell. You will be punished..."

So I grew up afraid

Afraid of God, of my own voice, of my thoughts.

I grew up thinking purity was a punishment,

That God would never accept a heart that asks questions,

Or a girl who laughs out loud,

Or dreams beyond what was written for her.

I lost both safety and faith.

Every prayer became a duty.

Every sin became a rope

Wrapping around my neck,

Choking me.

[pe4ses]

In "The Song of Achilles", the relationship between Achilles and Patroclus transcends traditional definitions. It is a story of pure love, steeped in passion, loyalty, and heartbreak. Their tale begins in childhood when Patroclus, an outcast exiled from his kingdom after an accidental killing, finds himself in the court of King Peleus. There, he meets Achilles, the golden boy, son of the sea goddess Thetis, who seemed to embody light itself—untouchable and destined for greatness.

At first, Patroclus feels unworthy of Achilles' attention. What could he, a quiet and unremarkable boy, possibly offer to someone destined to be the greatest of the Greeks? Yet, Achilles saw something in him that no one else did—a kindred soul who saw him not as a hero or a half-god, but as a person. Beneath the sheen of divinity and the weight of prophecy, Achilles longed for connection, for someone who could understand the boy beneath the legend.

Their love grew quietly, like a flame protected from the wind. It wasn't loud or dramatic; it was steadfast, built on shared moments by the shore, silent understanding, and a bond that neither time nor gods could sever. When Achilles began training with the wise centaur Chiron, Patroclus followed, and together they built a world away from the demands of destiny—a sanctuary of their own.

But love in a world ruled by gods and glory is never simple. The Trojan War loomed, a stage set for Achilles' prophesied greatness. He knew that joining the war would bring him eternal glory but also an early death. Patroclus, who despised the cruelty of war, couldn't bear to see Achilles consumed by it. Yet, he chose to stay by his side, knowing that love sometimes means walking into darkness together.

During the war, when Achilles refused to fight after being dishonored by Agamemnon, Patroclus stepped forward. Donning Achilles' armor, he led the Greek army into battle—not out of ambition, but out of love. He wanted to protect Achilles, to shield him from the consequences of his pride. But the gods, as always, had their own designs. Patroclus was killed by Hector, the Trojan prince, in a moment that shattered Achilles.

Patroclus' death was more than a personal loss; it was the breaking of Achilles' very soul. The man who had once been untouchable, who had laughed in the face of death, became consumed by grief and rage. His vengeance against Hector was merciless, but it was hollow. Achilles wasn't fighting for glory or honor anymore—he was fighting against the emptiness left by Patroclus' absence.

In his final moments, as Achilles faced his own death, he longed not for the immortality promised by his legend, but for reunion with Patroclus. And when his life ended, their souls found each other once more, intertwined in the afterlife as they had been in life.

"The Song of Achilles" is not merely a story about war or heroism. It is a story about love—the kind of love that defines a life, that transforms the ordinary into the extraordinary. It is about the sacrifices we make for those we cherish, the pain of loss, and the eternal bond that even death cannot sever. It is a story of a light that burns on, even in the shadow of fate.

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“Don’t allow your wounds to turn you into a person you are not.”

— Paulo Coelho

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— Khalil Gibran

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The Love Story of Orpheus and Eurydice

Orpheus, the son of the muse Calliope, was a gifted musician and poet whose music could charm all living things and even the stones of the earth. His lyre, given to him by the god Apollo, produced melodies so beautiful that rivers stopped flowing, animals gathered to listen, and the world itself seemed to pause when he played.

Orpheus fell deeply in love with Eurydice, a woman of great beauty and grace. Their love was pure and intense, and soon they were married. On their wedding day, however, fate struck a cruel blow. While Eurydice wandered through a meadow, she was bitten by a venomous snake. The poison took her life almost instantly, and she was taken to the underworld, leaving Orpheus in unimaginable grief.

Unable to accept her death, Orpheus decided to do the impossible: descend into the underworld to bring her back. Armed only with his lyre and his unshakable love, Orpheus made his way through the dark and treacherous path to the land of the dead.

When he arrived, he played his lyre and sang of his love and sorrow. His music was so heart-wrenching that the souls of the dead wept, and the great rulers of the underworld, Hades and Persephone, were moved to compassion. Hades, known for his stern and unyielding nature, granted Orpheus’ request—but on one condition:

"You may lead Eurydice back to the surface, but you must not look back at her until you both have reached the world of the living. If you turn to gaze upon her too soon, she will be lost to you forever."

Orpheus agreed and began the long, perilous journey back to the world above. Eurydice followed silently behind him, her footsteps faint, like whispers on stone. As they ascended, the light of the surface grew brighter, but Orpheus could not hear her, and doubt began to creep into his heart. Was she truly behind him? Had the gods tricked him?

At the very last moment, just steps away from the world of the living, Orpheus’ resolve broke. Overcome with fear and longing, he turned to look back at Eurydice. In that instant, her figure began to fade. Her eyes met his with a mixture of love and sorrow as she was pulled back into the underworld.

Orpheus cried out in despair, but there was nothing he could do. He tried to return to the underworld, but the gates were closed to him forever.

Heartbroken, Orpheus wandered the earth, playing his lyre and singing songs of loss and love. His music, once full of beauty and joy, became filled with melancholy, and the world mourned with him. He rejected the company of others, consumed by his grief.

In some versions of the myth, Orpheus was eventually killed by the Maenads, followers of Dionysus, who were angered by his refusal to embrace life and joy. Other tales say he was simply taken by the gods, who pitied him and reunited him with Eurydice in death.

Thus, Orpheus and Eurydice’s love story became a timeless tale of devotion, loss, and the fragile line between life and death. It reminds us of the power of love and the tragic consequences of doubt and impatience.

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“How do you say goodbye To someone you’ve been searching for your entire life? Like a lost soul, trying to find final peace. I suppose, all you can do is say their name. So I whisper yours through lips that won’t move; your name translating to “I don’t want to go.” Only it meant “I love you until this earth swallows my bones or to dust I return.” How do you say goodbye to someone you’ve been searching for your entire life? You say their name. So I say yours.”

—

“Steve?” Listen

Seventy Years of Sleep, nikka ursula, others, support my work by helping me grow my IG following here!

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I wanted to wake him up and see those eyes open. A thousand thousand times I had seen it, but i never tired of it.

The Song of Achilles, Patroclus about Achilles.

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“Do you know how long I've waited to hold you like this? To love you the way you deserve? I fear I may be unable to let you go now.”

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I'm a slave to my emotions, to my likes, to my hatred of boredom, to most of my desires.

— F. Scott Fitzgerald

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missed time by Ha Jin

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“Let it hurt. Let it bleed. Let it heal. And let it go.”

— Nikita Gill

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“…and yet there are endless mysteries under that clarity, behind those naked, fairy-tale eyes…”

— Anaïs Nin, from The Diary of Anaïs Nin: Vol.1, 1931-1934

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‏" مِنَ الضّروري أَنّ نقعَ بِالحُب ، علىّ الأقل يَكونُ لَدينا سببٌ لِلبؤس الذي يغمُرنا بكُلِ الأحوال. “

— ألبير كامو

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"Here are your tortured poets. All from Mahmoud Darwish to Dr. Refat Alareer to Khaled Juma, these are tortured poets. Tortured by longing for a home they can never return to, tortured by the world they were born to for BEING BORN. Palestine, home to the tortured poets department." [@/folkoftheshelf on X. April 20th, 2024.]