❞ City of Gold Saint #Peterhof: The Island of #Philosophers and #Poets in the Heart of the #Russian #Empire On the cold shores of the #Gulf of #Finland, where the blue waters meet the gray horizon, lies Saint Peterhof—a gem of the Russian Empire that was not merely a royal palace but a gathering place for philosophers and poets. Here, ideas intertwined, and minds flourished under the grandeur of history. Today, as I walk through its vast gardens, listening to the murmuring of its golden fountains, I feel as if I am strolling through a living museum of time. I can almost envision #Pushkin gazing at the horizon or #Dostoevsky wandering beneath the trees, perhaps lost in philosophical contemplation of human fate. This island, facing the Finnish shores, was not merely an imperial retreat but a meeting point for the intellectual elite, where literature, art, and politics were debated, and where ideas ignited like flames in the white nights of Russia. During the #Golden age of the empire, this place was teeming with intellectual life. #Tsar #Peter the #Great, the visionary behind this water paradise, intended it as a symbol of #European civilization at the heart of Russia. He brought in engineers and artists to transform swamps into one of the world’s most magnificent palaces. But it was not just a display of wealth—it was a sanctuary for brilliant minds, where writers and philosophers wandered through its decorated halls, contemplated beauty, and crafted ideas that changed the course of history. As I walk through its corridors today, I realize that history is not just a collection of written events—it is places that breathe with life, carrying the memories of those who passed through them. I feel like a part of this vast continuum, as if I can hear the echoes of words spoken here centuries ago, resonating between the ancient trees and floating over the tranquil waters of the gulf. Saint Peterhof is not just an island; it is a reflection of an imperial dream, a sanctuary of thought, and a witness to eras of creativity and contemplation. As a novelist, my visit to Peterhof was an extraordinary experience—where the grandeur of palaces blended with the enchantment of lush gardens, creating a mesmerizing scene brimming with beauty and inspiration, leaving an indelible mark on my soul and an everlasting memory filled with life. #Written by Jordanian novelist and President of the Arab Writers in Eastern Europe, Mahmoud Omar Mohammed Jumaa.. ❝ ⏤𝑴𝑨𝑯𝑴𝑶𝑼𝑫

❞ نرحب بالكتاب والكاتبات من كل أنحاء #العالم في الانضمام لمشروعنا الطموح.. - نقوم بالمراجعة والتنسيق - اقل وقت في قبول العمل - انشاء غلاف تسويقي مناسب - #النشر_مجاني (فقط الرسوم الادارية تحدد بعد قبول العمل من قبل لجنة القراءة) - #رابط موحد عالمي لكتابك - #رقم ايداع دولي للاصدارين الورقي و الالكتروني _ تشمل #اصداراتنا كل المجالات الادبية والعلمية بالعربية والانجليزية - #التوزيع للاصدارات الورقية حسب الطلب ل 111 دولة من خلال #المنصات الشريكة في تلك الدول. الشروط: أن يكون الكتاب على مستوى مناسب أن تكون حقوق النشر مملوكة للكاتب أي ليست محل التعاقد مع أي دار أخرى موقعنا https://kinzypa.com/ للاطلاع على سياسة النشر الخاصة بنا https://tinyurl.com/yq87ne7c للتواصل معنا واتساب 00201122811065 00201122811064 ايميل info@kinzypa.com صفحتنا على فيس بوك: https://tinyurl.com/yll745fo. ❝ ⏤Kinzy Publishing Agency.

❞ Sag feelings \"We will meet again with different hearts\" The last meeting was a cry of sadness for separation against our will. Yes, it was fate that separated us. It left no room for us to meet at a loving dinner table. The last meeting was the separation of two souls, the separation of feelings, the separation of ideas. We could not confront him, except to accept the inevitable fate. But what if we tried?! We might have succeeded, we might have been together now. It is too late and what was has ended. Love and affection have ended and even feelings have disappeared and vanished into the depths of the tyrant of time. Our bodies have grown old, our souls have aged, and here is our first meeting after a hundred years of separation. I felt what I felt. Do you think our feelings flowed again?! Or am I the only one clinging to a cursed past and a buried love? From the beginning, I was a victim of unlucky love. All roads lead to Rome, to a dead end in our love. Imagine that you were in love with me, but I was in love with you. I have been afflicted with the curse of wandering, and you are on the straight path walking comfortably. What has passed has passed and the accursed heart has died. There is now nothing but disappointment, brokenness, pain, sadness and pain. Do not say: You are sensitive, rather it is a bitter truth. I walked the paths of love in you, and I got lost in the maze of passion, then I fell into the pit of seduction, and I could not hold the rope of affection and affection, so they escaped from me, because you did not tighten your grip. You left me in the abyss of love, sometimes making you cry and sometimes making myself cry. In an instant, all the feelings in my heart disappeared. Yes, I became afflicted with the disease of insensitivity. Professor and writer Bouchra Delhoum, Blida, Algeria. ❝ ⏤