98 year old dobri dobrev, a man who lost his hearing in the second world war, walks 10 kilometers from his village in his homemade clothes and leather shoes to the city of sofia, where he spends the day begging for money.
though a well known fixture around several of the city’s chruches, known for his prostrations of thanks to all donors, it was only recently discovered that he has donated every penny he has collected — over 40,000 euros — towards the restoration of decaying bulgarian monasteries and churches and the utility bills of orphanages, living instead off his monthly state pension of 80 euros.
there’s still good in this world
“After this I go to work at a pizza shop. My wife and I were college professors in Bangladesh. I taught accounting. But one dollar in America becomes eighty dollars when we send it back home.”
تحت الياسمينة: A Letter to My Harasser →
I do not know your name, but you passed by me a week after Eid-ul-Fetr in the Bazaar in Kabul. You might remember me. I was the young woman wearing a white scarf and a long red embroidered tunic with dark pants. I was standing by a vegetable stand and…
Your stolen memory came to me tonight,
Like spring comes to the wilderness,
Like a soft breeze to the desert,
Like some unexpected relief in sickness.
(Source: asrar-i-khudi, via ghazalaa)
"You enter the Gaza strip through what in fact is a large fate, which is locked at night, and gives the appearance of an enormous concentration camp… Nothing I saw in South Africa [in 1991] can compare with Gaza in misery, in sheer programmed oppression, in confinement and racial discrimination."