When the Narrative Collapses… Memories of Abdeen and Maadi A Fraudster Who Defrauded the Story of His Own Fraud Me, Field Marshal El-Gamasy, and Translation When We Reach Our Eighties The Joy I Lived How Iran thinks: Sadat’s early reading of a revolutionary state Article by Eng. Ahmed Bahgat – IT Expert & AI Projects Consultant
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Me, Field Marshal El-Gamasy, and Translation

It is well known that mastering the art of translation requires several years of university study in order to properly command this responsible craft. I went through two amusing experiences during my military career that I will never forget. The first occurred because, owing to my background as the son of a British mother, I had full

When We Reach Our Eighties

When we reach our eighth decade, the memories of life begin to awaken and return—memories from the journey of life that have long been veiled by forgetfulness despite their importance and weight in shaping one’s character. Praise be to God, I have lived a life full of events and have experienced moments and encounters of

The Hidden Time Cost of Welcomes

Exploring how the practice of welcoming new officers, VCs, etc. can inadvertently hinder institutional progress and leadership effectiveness Mohammad Ehsan Leghari In the culturally rich tapestry of the Indo Pakistan subcontinent, social norms and traditions play a pivotal role in shaping interpersonal and professional interactions. One

Nordic Peaks, Pristine Rivers, Valleys

Between the rhythms of wipers, the downpour, and Sindhi kalam, time melted away. After nearly 250 kilometers, we reached Karlskoga, where we stopped at a petrol station for a short break. By Abdullah Usman Morai | Sweden The Journey Begins from Stockholm It was barely a week since I had returned from New York in August 2023 when my

I Hate Benjamin (1–2)

My hatred for him surpasses the length of the world’s mountains, and my rage against him is as vast as the roaring, frozen oceans. My fury at him is as massive as erupting volcanoes whose flames never die, and my anger at him as deep as the earth’s trembling core between the horns of a maddened bull. My loathing for him stretches