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  • El perro que no sabe que te has ido

    Created by: in daily-page on 2026/01/20 2:14

    Un perro no entiende la muerte. No como la entendemos nosotros. Él entiende el silencio. Entiende que alguien que siempre estuvo ahí ya no está.

    Espera junto a puertas que no se abren. Escucha pasos que solo existen en la memoria. Olfatea el aire buscando un aroma que ya se desvanece.

    Pero nunca escucha las palabras: “Ella se fue.” “Él falleció.” “Nunca más.”

    Así que en su corazón, tú sigues vivo— solo estás en otra parte. Retrasado. Atrapado en algún mandado demasiado extraño para comprender.

    ¿Y acaso no hacemos lo mismo los humanos? Sabemos los hechos, decimos las palabras— pero por dentro, seguimos esperando. Una llamada. Un golpe en la puerta. Una risa en la habitación de al lado. Como si el amor no tuviera derecho a entierro. Como si la memoria fuera una correa atada a un fantasma.

    Quizás el perro sufre menos porque no sabe que es para siempre. Pero quizás sufre más, porque nunca deja de esperar.

    Y tal vez eso es lo que realmente es el duelo: la parte terca de nosotros que espera, con las orejas en alerta, junto a una puerta que nunca volverá a abrirse.

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  • The Dog Who Doesn’t Know You’re Gone

    Created by: in daily-page on 2025/05/17 4:04

    A dog doesn’t understand death. Not the way we do. He understands silence. He understands that someone who was always there is now not.

    He waits by doors that won’t open. He listens for footsteps that only memory still makes. He sniffs at the air for a scent that’s already fading.

    But he never hears the words: “She’s gone.” “He passed.” “Never again.”

    So in his heart, you’re still alive— just elsewhere. Delayed. Caught in some long errand beyond comprehension.

    And isn’t that what we humans do too? We know the facts, we say the words— but inside, we keep waiting. For a call. A knock. A laugh in the next room. As if love had no burial rights. As if memory was a leash tied to a ghost.

    Perhaps the dog suffers less because he doesn’t know it’s forever. But perhaps he suffers more, because he never stops hoping.

    And maybe that’s what grief really is: the stubborn part of us that waits, ears perked, at a door that will never open again.

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  • Study Boyfriend

    Created by: in daily-page on 2025/12/15 0:25

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  • Shooting From the Hip in East Durham

    Created by: in daily-page on 2025/12/08 0:17

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  • Free Speech Is Not a Team Sport: How America Forgot Who the First Amendment Is For

    Created by: in united-states on 2025/11/24 3:36

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  • When the Underground Chooses Consent: Mutual Aid vs. Theft

    Created by: in society-power-and-economy on 2025/11/23 23:15

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  • The Pocket Cosmos: A 1999 Dispatch on the Coming Smartphone

    Created by: in the-future on 2025/11/23 22:17

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  • The Mobility State Isn’t Pie-in-the-Sky (And It Definitely Isn’t Social Democracy)

    Created by: in united-states on 2025/11/22 4:25

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  • Rebuilding the American Ladder — Condensed Edition

    Created by: in united-states on 2025/11/20 4:03

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  • When the Republic Met the Frontier

    Created by: in united-states on 2025/11/19 3:58

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  • From “They’re Rapists” to Raids on My Block

    Created by: in united-states on 2025/11/18 2:50

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  • Rebuilding the American Ladder: A Mobility State for an Age of Inequality

    Created by: in united-states on 2025/11/17 2:52

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  • Immigration, Welfare, and the American Paradox

    Created by: in united-states on 2025/11/16 3:26

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  • The Song of the Earth

    Created by: in moments-of-joy on 2025/05/29 3:21

    I am stuck in a narrow, crowded road. I can see the beginnings of a traffic jam. This part of the city was, after all known, for its nightmarish traffic situation. One could get stuck among honking cars and two-wheelers, for hours on end. I throw up a silent prayer to the gods, to spare me from a traffic jam. I just dont have the energy to navigate cursing drivers, and pedestrians who didnt have a lick of road sense. "Why couldnt people in this blasted country just follow the damn traffic rules?" "Why did I choose to come here for school?" I can feel my thoughts spiraling as I quietly resign myself to being stuck here for hours. A sudden cool breeze, breaks my reverie. This wasnt just any kind of breeze, it was the sort that brought the sweet promise of rain with it. I feel a new sort of awareness, as I sit up a little straighter. I take in my surroundings as if for the first time. A broad smile, splits my face, as I breathe in the wind carrying the scent of the earth. It reminds me of home, of the many many evenings I spent dancing and laughing in the rain with my siblings. I tilt my face up to the sky as if to greet a long lost friend. I relax, as the first drops, of rain hit me, causing delicious shivers to race up my body......

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  • Our Government Fits in a Parking Garage

    Created by: in andorra on 2025/05/27 2:29

    No, seriously. The Consell General (our parliament) is inside a building smaller than most banks.

    It’s wedged right into a bend in the road in Andorra la Vella. It has a parking garage underneath.

    In theory, you could run for office, park your car, and walk into the chamber in under three minutes.

    I once tried to explain this to a coworker from Berlin. He laughed for five straight minutes.

    And yet, it works.

    Our political system is one of the oldest in Europe — we’ve had co-princes since the 1200s. One is the Bishop of Urgell (Catalonia), and the other is the President of France.

    It’s weird. But stable. And very us.

    Maybe you don’t need a palace if you’ve got snow, fiber internet, and municipal hot springs.

    New Parliament of Andorra Building, made of grey stone New Parliament of Andorra, headquarters of the General Council of Andorra since 2011.

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  • The Snow Knows Who We Are

    Created by: in andorra on 2025/05/27 2:28

    When I was a child, I thought every country had ski lockers at the supermarket.

    That’s Andorra. Small, yes. But we live vertically — and very much on our own terms.

    I was once asked by an American tourist if we use euros “like France does.” I told him we do. Then I told him we’re not France. Or Spain.

    We’re both. And neither.

    Catalan is our official language. We learn Spanish and French from childhood. Some of us speak Portuguese at home. Our newsstands carry newspapers from Madrid, Toulouse, and sometimes Lisbon.

    And yet, we are something else entirely.

    When I travel, people ask if I’m Spanish or French. I always hesitate. “I’m Andorran,” I say. Most smile politely. A few ask if that’s in Africa.

    It’s okay. We’re used to being overlooked. But the snow knows who we are.

    We belong to mountains. And to each other.

    Wintry Andorran mountain village at twilight

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  • Creeds, Tribes, and Freethinkers: Is America Built to Liberate Our Minds?

    Created by: in united-states on 2025/05/11 12:54

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  • Падение со скалы.

    Created by: in daily-page on 2025/05/02 14:55

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  • First Experience

    Created by: in daily-page on 2025/05/01 15:10

    First Experience... apa yang sebenarnya kita pikirkan atau ingat saat mendengar hal itu, tentunya banyak ya. Contohnya saat ini, first experience menulis dalam sebuah blog di sebuah web yang direkomendasikan oleh AI (chat gpt). Umurku saat ini baru saja menginjak 18 tahun dan banyak hal yang belum aku alami dan hal hal tersebut yang mendorong diriku untuk berkembang lebih jauh lagi. Namun, aku juga mengalami ketakutan tentang masa depan, bagai bebek berenang dalam danau yang tenang, Apa yang sebenarnya ingin aku lakukan, hal apa yang harus aku selesaikan. Semua hal itu akan menjadi First Experience berhargaku nantinya. goodbye guys

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  • Samsara

    Created by: in daily-page on 2025/11/09 14:13

    Any moment may be our best or worst and nobody can discern the correct evaluation of actions across time.

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  • Neither Side Speaks for Me

    Created by: in united-states on 2025/11/09 3:17

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