#old jerusalem

[jontycrane]

Jerusalem Old City

One of the holiest and most contentious places on earth, the Old City of Jerusalem is a hugely historic area, significant to Christians, Jews and Muslims. Visiting it can be overwhelming, in terms of the maze of streets and number of people, including many tour groups. There are four main gates into the Old City, and a number of smaller gates. The Damascus Gate was the original entrance to the…

[pal1cam]

Al-Aqsa never fails to blow my mind every time i visit 🤍

[amone448]

📍البَلْدَة القَدِيمة - القُّدْس

[plstnyan]

Al-Aqsa mosque, Jerusalem, Palestine

[vox-anglosphere]

King Richard I met with his knights here to launch the Third Crusade

[valkyri]

NECK TATTS! NECK TATTS!

[i-am-aprl]

Historical photo of the day: Palestinian students at Birzeit College outside Ramallah, 1964.

Initially established as a girls school in 1924, Birzeit College would later become Birzeit University, one of Palestine's leading educational institutions today, and among the top 3 percent of universities worldwide, as of 2019 (according to the QS World University Rankings).

[postcard-from-the-past]

Via Dolorosa street in Jerusalem, Palestine

British vintage postcard

[eretzyisrael]

[blueiscoool]

‘Extremely Rare’ Ancient Stone Seal Discovered in Jerusalem

An "extremely rare and unusual" ancient stone artifact-thought to be around 2,700 years old-has been discovered in Jerusalem.

The artifact in question, a seal made of black stone, was uncovered during an excavation conducted by the Israel Antiquities Authority and the City of David organization near the Southern Wall of the Temple Mount (also known as Al-Aqsa)-a site in Jerusalem's Old City that is considered holy by Jewish people, Muslims and Christians.

The stone seal bears a name inscribed in the paleo-Hebrew script, as well as an image of a winged figure. It is thought to have been used both as an amulet and as a stamp to seal documents, Filip Vukosavović, a senior field archaeologist with the Israel Antiquities Authority (IAA), told Newsweek.

"The seal is one of the most beautiful ever discovered in excavations in ancient Jerusalem, and is executed at the highest artistic level," Yuval Baruch and Navot Rom, excavation directors on behalf of the IAA, said in a press release.

The seal has a hole drilled through it lengthwise so that it could be strung onto a chain and hung around the neck. In the center, a figure with wings is depicted in profile, wearing a long, striped shirt and striding toward the right. The figure has a mane of long curls covering the nape of the neck, and on its head sits a hat or a crown.

The figure is raising one arm upward with an open palm, perhaps indicating that it is holding some kind of object.

Depictions of winged figures such as these are known in neo-Assyrian art of the 9th-7th centuries B.C. and were considered a kind of protective magical figure, according to Vukosavović. The artifact, thus, demonstrates the influence of the Assyrian Empire-a major civilization of the ancient Near East that had conquered the Israelite Kingdom of Judah, including its capital Jerusalem.

"This is an extremely rare and unusual discovery. This is the first time that a winged 'genie'– a protective magical figure-has been found in Israeli and regional archaeology," Vukosavović said in an IAA press release.

On both sides of the figure, an inscription is engraved in paleo-Hebrew script. In English script, this inscription translates as: "Le Yehoʼezer ben Hoshʼayahu."

"[Yehoʼezer] was a common name," Ronny Reich, a researcher from the University of Haifa said.

The researchers believe that the stone object was originally worn as an amulet around the neck of a man called Hoshʼayahu, who held a senior position in the administration of the Kingdom of Judah. He may have worn the object as a symbol of his authority. "It seems that the object was made by a local craftsman-a Judahite, who produced the amulet at the owner's request. It was prepared at a very high artistic level," Vukosavović said in the press release.

The working hypothesis of the experts is that upon Hoshʼayahu's death, his son, Yehoʼezer, inherited the seal, and then added both of their names on either side of the figure. The names were added in negative, or mirror, script-so that the impression would appear in positive and be legible-according to Reich.

"The combination of figure and script, and particularly a neo-Assyrian figure is uncommon in Judah," Reich said.

By ARISTOS GEORGIOU.

[remindertoclick]

Your Daily Reminder to Click for Palestine!

[webdiggerxxx]

old city, east jerusalem, palestine, 2013

[daniel-nerd]

IMPORTANT

the israeli fascism is moving on another level

the old city of jerusalem is a historic piece of land, with so much history across 4 THOUSAND years, it is illegally occupied by israel since the war of 67, was classified as ENDANGERED WORLD HERITAGE SITE since 82.

israel have NO RIGHT under international law to try and concur land from the 1600 years old armenian quarter!!

this is just another blatant violation of international law, in attempt to ethnically cleanse israel/palestine from ANYONE who isn’t jewish!! being covered by the horrific warcrimes committed in gaza.

in case you haven’t learned about WWI, armenians are also VICTIMS OF GENOCIDE, committed by the ottoman empire!!

I don’t care whats your opinion on the war in gaza, THIS IS ABOUT PROTECTING WORLD HERITAGE, PLEASE, BOOST THIS VIDEO, share the link on every platform you can, and donate as much as you can to help the armenians with the legal fight against israel!!

[amone448]

صَلَيْت على النَّبي،، جُمعة مُبارَكة 🤎

[whollyjoly]

for some reason i can't explain i know saint peter won't call my name

nothing that lives, lives forever - an immortal soldier!alton more au

(1.1k of snippets from my old guard(ish) au where alton more is old, too old, and has been living and fighting far longer than anyone should. full description/other thoughts at the bottom. tw: blood, violence, mentions of death)

Alton clicked the lighter closed, running a thumb over the silver case. The night was warm, sticky in a way that he never could get used to. He sucked in a breath from the cheap cigarette, letting his head fall back against the rough side of the barracks.

It was quiet. Typically, there would be no end to the commotion coming from the small building, one of many that littered Camp Toccoa. The wall of sound was ever-present, no matter if it was shouting or laughing or snoring. But whatever the cause, there was always noise. 

No matter if it was a blanket of noise he knew well, unchanging except for the language and the scenery. Soldiers are soldiers, and some things are a constant. It could almost be comforting, if it didn’t also mean that the need for soldiers was a constant as well.

However, tonight was a Saturday, and it was one of the few weekends that Sobel had allowed Easy the use of their weekend passes. Almost every man in the company had jumped at the chance to get off base, to travel home if they could and spend time with loved ones. The ones with farther-flung hometowns had spirited off to Atlanta, happy to spend their time drinking and dancing and fucking instead of slogging through another run, three miles up, three miles down.

Normally, Alton would have joined them in their carousing - it was easier to pass the time with the effortless camaraderie built during a training camp than bored and alone. 

But today had been a bad day. The sound of swords and the shift of sand beneath his feet followed him out of his nightmares, the humid summer of Georgia morphing itself into the baking, dry heat of the desert. 

His shouts must have been real, because when a hand came to shake him out of his dream, the first face he saw was not that of a grouchy NCO, but of a blood-caked Saracen, eyes alight with righteous fury. 

Alton didn’t think. He had grabbed the knife from under his pillow, an old thing that had been sharpened more times than he could begin to count, and was on the man in less than a breath, pressing the blade into the side of his neck. The familiar thrum of blood beat against his fingertips, the grit of sand scratched his gums. He knew what he had to do, had done it a thousand times, a thousand thousand times, what was a little more bloodshed spilled across his feet-

Alton had blinked, and came to himself in a rush.

Instead of an unnamed Saracen, the ashen face of Johnny Martin stared up at him, eyes wide behind the knife.

Alton drew back his hand, retreating almost as quick as he had lunged earlier. He mumbled a quick curse and apology as he stepped out of arm’s reach from the man. It wasn’t until Martin’s eyes widened even farther that Alton realized his tongue was slipping out Arabic of all things.

Usually, Alton was better about remembering himself, who he was almost as important as where he was. But for whatever reason, his demons had decided to catch up with him that night.

After a quick smile and some quip about the Krauts in his dreams, he managed to wave an only-slightly-mollified Martin off. The shorter man apparently hadn’t forgotten it though, if his watchful eyes during chow that morning were anything to go by.

Alton was just glad that no one else was awake to see it, at least. That was the last thing he needed.

And so, instead of joining in on a weekend of broads and booze, Alton found himself waving away the invitation by an eager Smokey and bemused Alley. When the horde made their way out of the barracks, fantasizing in bawdy terms about their planned misadventures, he felt like he could breathe easy.

Fucking finally.

~~

Alton took another drag from the cigarette. He watched the smoke curl, up and up until it faded into nothing amongst the darkening sky.

The lighter was a welcome weight in his hand, grounding him to this time, this life.

The design was worn by now, details barely visible after a half century of worrying. It still managed to amaze him, sometimes, what people could do with the smallest of canvases. Alton didn’t feel the same wonder however, wasn’t as mesmerized by the beauty man could create as he once was.

But in the quiet moments, he could still appreciate the time some French craftsman took to transform a hunk of metal into a small token carried around by a dead man.

Luz had spied the lighter one weekend, and laughed at him for using something so old-fashioned. Alton just shrugged, not caring to admit that he was still getting used to having a light at his fingertips. It wasn’t all that long ago when he was still lighting a pipe with a flintlock pistol, and not so long before that when he would carry around a flint and steel.

Time was passing all the more quickly these days, technologies changing and advancing, and everyone was obsessed with needing things to be quicker, cheaper, simpler. Alton scoffed. He could hardly find it in him to care.

He glanced down at the lighter in his hand, shifting it back and forth in a practiced motion and watched as the light skittered across the sides. 

It had shown flowers, once. A veritable garden of carnations, daffodils, and lilies of the valley, with leaves spilling across the front panel onto the back. They represent good fortune, he was told. Good fortune, luck, and hope. 

When the merchant described it to him, eyes ablaze with a passion known only to those with wares to sell, Alton didn’t try to hide the snort that escaped his throat. 

Fortune and Luck had abandoned him long ago, and hadn’t returned since waking up in a battlefield abandoned by all but the dead, sword in his chest and blood in his mouth. 

And what the fuck was Alton supposed to do with hope?

It was the quote on the back that had caught his eye, all those years ago in a street market in Reims. The beveled edges had faded with time, the familiar letters Alton traced were more memory by now than any physical mark. Une vie honorable est une vie éternelle.

An honorable life is an eternal life.

Alton couldn’t help but stare at the message, both then and now. He hated that goddamn word. Immortal. Unending. Eternal. 

They were such flowery words, used by people who craved what they couldn’t have, what they shouldn’t. The romanticized idea of the everlasting, the fountain of youth, the gift of life! Alton was sick of it.

This wasn’t life. He was a fucking dead man walking. And he sure as hell didn’t do anything honorable to deserve it.

months ago, while thinking about the absolute insanity of the almost...cavalier? attitude we see alton more have over the course of the series, an idea hit my brain: what if there was a reason nothing seemed to phase him - not panzers, not being a breath away from a car wreck, not bastogne, not speirs? what if this wasn't his first war? that thought spiraled me into a minor insanity that is this: my immortal soldier!alton more au, loosely inspired by the movie the old guard (2020). the idea is that, once upon a time, there was a soldier in a land many centuries ago. one day, he died in battle. and then, he woke up. and then he died. and then he woke up. over, and over. drawn to countless battles, conflicts, and wars, each one etching itself into the core of his soul. a never-ending cycle...until one sweltering summer, where he found himself at a training camp at the foot of a mountain. anyways. at some point, i plan on writing this as a full story, but that is admittedly a long ways away. however, in celebration of alton more's birthday today, i wanted to post my favorite scene that i've written for this au! it's set sometime at the beginning of the story, in the early days of camp toccoa. mostly, it's just a character study of this version of alton more. hope you enjoyed! and of course - happy birthday alton more!

(song insp.)

taglist: @sweetxvanixlla @coco-bean-1218 @bucky32557038ww2 @georgieluz @samwinchesterslostshoe @xxluckystrike @next-autopsy @ronald-speirs @land-sh @ronsparky @panzershrike-pretz @theredrenard @kyellin

[koshercosplay]

got this amazing find at a secondhand jewish bookstore yesterday for only $2!!