نور العالم، دعوة لاجراء فحوصات طبية مجانية

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History of Victorian England

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  In late Victorian London, poverty was so widespread that even sleep came at a cost. One of the cheapest forms of shelter for the homeless was the "four-penny coffin," a wooden box where a person could lie down for the night, often covered with nothing more than a tarpaulin. For those who couldn't afford even that, a two-penny alternative existed: a bench and a rope stretched across the chest to keep a person upright as they slept. This grim arrangement came to be known as the "two-penny hangover"—a haunting image of hardship and endurance in a time when survival itself was a nightly struggle. Despite popular belief, the term "hangover" did not originate from this rope-sleeping practice. While it makes for a compelling tale, linguistic research shows that the word originally referred to the lingering effects of something left unfinished-such as unresolved business from a meeting. It wasn't until the early 20th century, around 1904, that "hang...
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The Story of a fishermen, a frog and a Snake

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It's been a while since i'm focused on reading books that discusses group dynamics, management, productivity and organizational structures. i'm finding so many interesting ideas and frameworks to learn, share and use through my daily tasks in my current job. in one of the ascent books i was reviewing (when i say ascent, i mean written in the 60's) a found an interesting story that talk about rewards in work environment and how it affect negatively as much as positively on the end results. it goes like this: "A weekend fisherman looked over the side of his boat and saw a snake with a frog in its mouth.  Feeling sorry for the frog, he reached down, gently removed the frog from the snake's mouth and let the frog go free. But now he felt sorry for the hungry snake. Having no food, he took out a flask of bourbon and poured a few drops into the snake's mouth. The snake swam away happy, the frog was happy and the man was happy for having performed such ...
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Fake Independence, failed state, failed democracy

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In the 73rd memorial of the Lebanese Independence Day, still, a deep surge of wonder and uncertainty circulate my shallow conception about the country I was born, raised and reborn many times into. A question mark keeps lingering in my head while no definite answer can be reached. Is Lebanon as we know it today, deserve to be an entity inclusive to all its indigenous residents? I was born in 1981, a considerably dangerous year to be alive, or at least to be aware in Lebanon. As it was mentioned on my ID, my residential birth was the nearest hospital possible to the shelter where my parents used to take cover. Up until my 9th birthday, most of my childhood memories were made either in shelters or in a 5 Km radius away from. The crystal clear images in my head remained from the year 1990, when I had my first communion and the battles between the Christian faction “Lebanese Forces” and the Lebanese army. I remember the shelling, I remember death, I remember the voices o...
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