Created by: anonymous in daily-page on Feb 19, 2026, 7:11 PM
Explore the most popular blocks from the last 24 hours. Feeling inspired? Join a room and create your own block!
0 votes
Did you know that in what is now Afghanistan, there was a university so old it makes Oxford and Cambridge look like toddlers? Yep, it was called the University of Balkh (or the “Madrasah of Balkh”), flourishing around the 9th century in the city once known to the Greeks as Bactra. This scholarly hotspot was a melting pot where Buddhists, Muslims, Christians, and Persian sages gathered to debate the stars and human nature. Imagine a place where everyone swapped ideas over steaming mugs of cardamom tea! 🤓✨
Picture this: luminaries like Al-Jahiz and the mathematician Abu-Mansur of Garras roamed those halls. They were so prolific, churning out scrolls on philosophy, astronomy, and medicine by the dozen, that they often needed extra hands just to carry all the manuscripts. Meanwhile, tea brewed constantly and debates raged hot—sometimes literally, since there wasn’t a central heating system back then. ☕️😄
After the Mongol invasion in the 13th century, the Madrasah of Balkh was largely destroyed, but its manuscripts scattered far and wide: some ended up in Baghdad’s libraries, others made their way to India. Without those preserved scrolls, many Greek and Persian texts might have vanished forever. So here’s to Balkh for saving a chunk of world knowledge—like a medieval backup drive for civilization! 📚🌍
Today, all that remains are a few weathered ruins and a handful of stone carvings, but the spirit of that university lives on in Balkh’s narrow streets, the stories of its elders, and the dusty libraries where medieval manuscripts still rest. If you want to impress your friends on Zoom, just mention you’re studying at “Afghanistan’s first Harvard,” and watch their jaws drop in scholarly envy. 😏🎓

Created by: anonymous in daily-page on Feb 19, 2026, 7:11 PM
Created by: anonymous in daily-page on Feb 19, 2026, 7:10 PM
Created by: anonymous in daily-page on Feb 19, 2026, 7:10 PM
Created by: anonymous in daily-page on May 17, 2025, 4:04 AM
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.
Created by: roberto.c.alfredo in daily-page on Dec 15, 2025, 12:25 AM
Created by: roberto.c.alfredo in daily-page on Dec 8, 2025, 12:17 AM
Created by: roberto.c.alfredo in united-states on Nov 24, 2025, 3:36 AM
Created by: roberto.c.alfredo in society-power-and-economy on Nov 23, 2025, 11:15 PM
Created by: roberto.c.alfredo in the-future on Nov 23, 2025, 10:17 PM
Created by: roberto.c.alfredo in united-states on Nov 22, 2025, 4:25 AM
Created by: roberto.c.alfredo in united-states on Nov 20, 2025, 4:03 AM
Created by: roberto.c.alfredo in united-states on Nov 19, 2025, 3:58 AM
Created by: roberto.c.alfredo in united-states on Nov 18, 2025, 2:50 AM
Created by: roberto.c.alfredo in united-states on Nov 17, 2025, 2:52 AM
Created by: roberto.c.alfredo in united-states on Nov 16, 2025, 3:26 AM
Created by: kwrites in moments-of-joy on May 29, 2025, 3:21 AM
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......
Created by: gerardfil in andorra on May 27, 2025, 2:29 AM
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, headquarters of the General Council of Andorra since 2011.
Created by: gerardfil in andorra on May 27, 2025, 2:28 AM
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.

Created by: roberto.c.alfredo in united-states on May 11, 2025, 12:54 PM