~ Bronze model of a city wall.
Date: 799-700 B.C.
Placeof origin: Eastern Anatolia Region, Turkey
Medium: Copper Alloy
• From the source: This bronze model of a city wall comes from Toprakkale (ancient Rusahinili) in Urartu, the site of a major temple of the god Haldi. Urartian texts show that Haldi was the principal deity of the Urartian pantheon, always named first in the trinity with Teisheba (storm god) and Shiwini (sun god).The function of the model is not known. It could have been dedicated in the temple to ensure the protection of the city, or presented by a vassal city (as depicted on some Assyrian relief sculpture). Equally it could have been part of a wheeled hearth similar to one found at Nimrud in Assyria. Urartu, centred on Lake Van, was the northern neighbour and rival of the Assyrian empire during the ninth to the seventh centuries BC and adopted many of the artistic traditions of Mesopotamia. The architectural details on the model provide information about fortifications of this time. They include a double-winged gate that arches at the top; rectangular windows; stepped battlements; and a high, narrow tower. The lower part of the walls and the window frames would have been made of beautifully cut and fitted stone blocks. The upper part of the wall would have been of mud brick and the parapets rested on jutting beams. The kingdom of Urartu had disappeared before 600 B.C., possibly destroyed by raids of horse-borne warriors known to the Greeks as Scythians, associated with the Medes from western Iran. The name survives, however, in that of its highest mountain, Ararat.
By the mid 15th Century, the might Eastern Roman Empire had suffered under centuries of conquest by Arab and Turkish invaders, resulting in the empire stretching no father than the ancient capitol of Constantinople itself. The great city was no better off than the empire as a whole, its population reduced from a million inhabitants to less than 50,000, while the Byzantine Army could muster little more than 7,000 men. In contrast the Ottoman Empire completely surrounded the city, and was amassing a force of 50,000 - 80,000 men to complete the final conquest of Byzantium.
The last hope of the Byzantines were a series of large walls and fortresses which had successfully defended Constantinople since ancient times. The city walls had fended off many invaders in the past, and Constantinople was considered the most heavily fortified city in Europe at the time. Storming Constantinople would certainly not be easy, however the Ottomans had an ace up their sleeves.
In 1452 a Hungarian military engineer named Urban offered his services as a cannon maker to the Byzantine Emperor Constantine XI. The Emperor had neither the money to pay Urban, nor the resources to craft the cannon which Urban offered. As a result, Urban went to the Emperor’s rival, the Ottoman Sultan Mehmed II, who certainly could pay Urban and had the technology and resources to produce his cannons.
To bring down the walls of Constantinople Urban directed the casting of several large bronze siege guns. The largest was a massive cannon that fired massive 25 inch stone balls. Weighing 19 tons, it took 2-3 hours to load and had to be transported by a team of 60 mules.
The Siege of Constantinople began on the 6th of April 1453. Over the next 53 days, the Ottomans pounded the city walls with Urban’s guns. After nearly two months of constant bombardment, the walls of Constantinople could no longer hold out against the attack resulting in several breeches. On May 28th, the Ottoman Army stormed the city, easily overwhelming the outnumbered Byzantine defenders.
With the exception of the short lived Empire of the Trebizond, the Ancient Roman State had fallen for good. Mehmed II made Constantinople the new capitol and quickly sought to take on the mantle as emperor of a new Roman Empire, declaring himself Kayser-i Rum (Caesar of Rome), and declaring the Ottoman Empire as the “Third Roman Empire”.
“ The tranquility of the ancient city of Tetouan ”
The old city of Tetouan has been listed as a wolrd heritage thanks to its breathtaking charm. Despite its small size, it promisingly offers a delicately built mosaic of fine arts thanks to its Andalusian and Granadan inspired architecture. Its lanes depict an originality of a Moroccan-Andalusian impression in the buildings marked by the Moroccan touch of our authentic Islamic identity.
Its mornings are fragrant with the breeze of its warm-hearted people, in a city furnished with simplicity.
At night, a lingering calmness lays wings over its walls capable of drifting you through a bohemian ambiance.
Every night, I feel possessed by this soul cleansing quietness, which is depicted in the photos of this exhibition, through which I am attempting to pass it on to all the viewers.
Parallelly, I am honoured to be part of this show, and I am proud of my belonging to this charming little city; as I am endowed with the bliss of living through its magic and peacefulness day to day…
@vhils’s latest project in Bangkok at the Wall of the Portuguese embassy. This piece aims to make visible the invisible history of Bangkok, in a tribute to the people of this neighbourhood, this city, this ancient wall and the historic ties between Thailand and Portugal, with graphic and figurative elements that highlight what we share in common and brings us closer as human beings. #streetart #portraits #portugal #embassy #layers #history #vhils #bangkok https://www.instagram.com/p/BQilmkmDr4Q/
“Tericur!” The green haired boy shouted. His voice echoed through the ancient building that had fallen into ruins. Sunlight leaked through the crevices and wall gaps, illuminating the sandstone interior. The boy stood atop a crumbling pillar close to the roof of the massive building.
His foot slipped as a corner of the pillar shattered. Panic spread through the boy’s chest as he heard the rubble crash to the floor. The entire building shook. The boy’s breathing quickened and he shouted again. “Tericur!”
A loud rumble shook the building, causing the boy to drop to his stomach, clutching the edges of the pillar. A roar came from one of the holes in the wall. The boy tried to crane his neck to see his Trico where their head poked in through the side of the building.
“Trico, It’s me! Jack! It’s me, buddy!” Jack shouted. Trico––a large, catlike creature with huge ears, long whiskers, and feathers rather than fur––yipped at Jack. He wanted Jack to jump. As much as Jack had grown to trust and care for Trico, he knew how clumsy he could be at times.
Still, as the pillar began to teeter dangerously, he found himself running out of options. You better catch me, bud, Jack thought. He tucked his knees up to his chest, then pushed off the floor and onto his feet. He struggled to keep his balance as another section of the pillar collapsed, giving him only a sliver of rock left to stand on.
He was suddenly conscious of his rapidly beating heart. His feet shuffled to the edge and mistakenly, he looked down. With a squeak, he backed away to the middle of the pillar. “Trico, I can’t. It’s too high. I can’t jump it.” Jack cried. In response, Trico grumbled and pulled his head out of the gap in the wall. Where had he gone? Jack tried to peer out through a nearby crack in the wall. Nothing. Trico was nowhere to be found.
The scratch of Trico’s claws against stone grew rapid, heavy, and loud. Jack saw Trico charge forward towards the wall, preparing to break it so he could reach Jack. Jack panicked. Trico was only an animal and wouldn’t; realize that what he was about to do would make the whole building collapse.
Jack braced himself for impact just as Trico’s head slammed into the side of the building. The entire place shook as dust and dirt showered down on him. Pieces of the ceiling collapsed, sending tremors through the ancient city. The walls crumbled and the sun’s bright glow illuminated a room, seemingly untouched by light for centuries.
A piece of the ceiling collapse inward and slammed into the side of the pillar Jack crouched on. The entire pillar shook, almost causing him to fall. Instead, the pillar began to fall into the center of the building. Jack covered his eyes with his hands and cried out for Trico one last time. Maybe he would be lucky and Trico would find a way to catch him.
He felt a choking sensation as his robes were yanked tightly upward. His feet came off the crumbling pillar as he was being lifted away from the rubble. Jack could feel the vibration of the crashes even as his feet were so far off the ground.
In an instant, he was airborne. Trico has flung him onto his back and bolted from the collapsing building. Jack forced his hands away from his eyes to grab onto Trico so he wouldn’t fall. His eyes still shut, he buried his face in the creature’s feathers.
“You never cease to amaze me, bud. Thank you. You saved my life… again…”
Trico yipped in acknowledgment and shook the dust from his feathers. Jack rolled onto his back, holding onto Trico with one hand as he gazed at the sky above. Their journey was nowhere near over, he imagined.
It was on this day in British history, 8 July 1822, that English poet Percy Bysshe Shelley drowned off the coast of Italy. Shelley died after his boat, the Don Juan, sank while he sailed with two of his friends. Shelley’s body was washed ashore and later, in keeping with quarantine regulations, was cremated on the beach near Viareggio. Shelley’s ashes were interred in the Protestant Cemetery, Rome, near an ancient pyramid in the city walls. His grave bears the Latin inscription, Cor Cordium (“Heart of Hearts”), and, in reference to his death at sea, a few lines of “Ariel’s Song” from Shakespeare's The Tempest: “Nothing of him that doth fade / But doth suffer a sea-change / Into something rich and strange."
An 1889 painting by Louis Édouard Fournier, The Funeral of Shelley (also known as The Cremation of Shelley), contains inaccuracies. In pre-Victorian times it was English custom that women would not attend funerals for health reasons. Mary Shelley did not attend but was featured in the painting, kneeling at the left-hand side. Leigh Hunt stayed in the carriage during the ceremony but is also pictured. Also, Trelawny, in his account of the recovery of Shelley’s body, records that "the face and hands, and parts of the body not protected by the dress, were fleshless,” and by the time that the party returned to the beach for the cremation, the body was even further decomposed. In his graphic account of the cremation, he writes of Byron being unable to face the scene, and withdrawing to the beach.
It was on this day in British history, 8 July 1822, that English poet
Percy Bysshe Shelley drowned off the coast of Italy. Shelley died after
his boat, the Don Juan, sank while he sailed with two of his
friends. Shelley’s body was washed ashore and later, in keeping
with quarantine regulations, was cremated on the beach
near Viareggio. Shelley’s ashes were interred in the Protestant
Cemetery, Rome, near an ancient pyramid in the city walls. His grave
bears the Latin inscription, Cor Cordium (“Heart of Hearts”), and, in reference to his death at sea, a few lines of “Ariel’s Song” from Shakespeare’s The Tempest: “Nothing of him that doth fade / But doth suffer a sea-change / Into something rich and strange.“
An 1889 painting by Louis Édouard Fournier, The Funeral of Shelley (also known as The Cremation of Shelley),
contains inaccuracies. In pre-Victorian times it was English custom
that women would not attend funerals for health reasons. Mary Shelley
did not attend but was featured in the painting, kneeling at the
left-hand side. Leigh Hunt stayed in the carriage during the ceremony
but is also pictured. Also, Trelawny, in his account of the recovery of
Shelley’s body, records that "the face and hands, and parts of the body
not protected by the dress, were fleshless,” and by the time that the
party returned to the beach for the cremation, the body was even further
decomposed. In his graphic account of the cremation, he writes of Byron
being unable to face the scene, and withdrawing to the beach.
The legend of Jagga Jutt - the dacoit, a Punjabi Robin Hood who would rob the rich to feed the poor, is one that has been told and retold many times by several prominent Punjabi singers from both sides of the border including Gurdas Mann, Abrar-Ul-Haq and Kuldeep Manak.
This popular folk song glorifies one great soorma (warrior), Jagga, who was unparalleled in his brawn, bravery and fearlessness. It describes how Jagga’s birth was celebrated by vadhaiyan (congratulations) throughout the village and how Jagga grew up to be the greatest dakoo (robber) in the history of Punjab!
Now like all free-spirited, young Punjabi lads, Jagga was in the habit of rearing pigeons. This is something of a national pastime among young boys, especially in rural Punjab. Countless pigeon-sheds can be spotted on Lahore’s rooftops, especially in the Androon Shehr (the ancient walled city). Jagga’s pigeons’ were cheenay (having white flecks on their plumage) and would fly high over the nehr (canal) that ran on the outskirts of Jagga Jutt’s pind (village).
Like all handsome, young Punjabi men, Jagga Jutta sported a handlebar mustache, a moch. He would curl the edges of his mustache between his fingers to show his authority and to cower his opposition.
The legend also recounts Jagga Jutt’s grand robbery in Lyallpur (present-day Faisalabad in Pakistani Punjab).The news of the robbery spread like wildfire. Police forces (in the British-ruled Punjab) were sent in Jagga’s wake. It was during this fateful chase that Jagga’s jangia (a kind of boxer briefs that Punjabi men wear under their dhotis/lungis) got stuck on a Banyan tree branch that he was trying to climb. He slipped.
Jagga hung from the Banyan branch. The police officers in his chase caught up and beheaded Jagga under the Banyan tree. Lore has it that so much blood spurted out of Jagga Jutt’s decapitated body that it soaked nine tonnes of sand.
The news of Jagga’s death reached his mother who was bereaved beyond words. She would wail and cry out her only son’s name saying, “Jay mae jandi Jaggay nay mar jana, tay aik di thaan do jam di!” (If only I had known that Jagga would die (so soon),I would have borne two sons instead of one!).
This folk song is an ode to the great Punjabi hero, with the singer lamenting Jagga Jutt’s loss after every stanza, saying: “Jaggaya tur pardes gayon, buha bajeya!“ (Jagga has moved away to a foreign land and his door is bolted!)
Growing Wings, A Song of the Fairies (Prompt: Singing)
Fandom: Fairy Tail Ship Title: Gajevy/Gale Rating: T A.N.: This fanfiction is actually based off of an AU by Silver Inklett titled “To The Waters and the Wilds”. It can be found on fanfiction.net here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10360576/1/To-The-Waters-and-the-Wilds . Go check hers out first! It was the inspiration for this one (with her permission of course)! This is not in any shape or form canon to her story. Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail or it’s characters, Hiro Mashima does. I also do not own the character Ardelle or the concept of Levy being a fairy from Tenrou, that was all Silver Inklett’s original idea. I also do not own the song in here called “Growing Wings”, that’s owned by the Drakenguard series and sung by Paperblossom (can be found on youtube).
This was the day, this was the day when everything changed, Levy thought to herself. She became depressed this time every year, because of what was and what couldn’t be. She remembered her mother’s face. She tried to block it from her memory, but this was the day here whole life changed.
She came to the guild that day and ignored everyone, and walked up to go to the library, she needed a day by herself. It had been 10 years, but even in those 10 years, it never dulled the ache of her remembrance of that day.
Gajeel watched her come in, shoulders down and red rimmed eyes. He didn’t know what caused her to be like that, but every year, this day, she always was like that, came in to the guild, ignored everyone, and stayed holed up in the library. When he first saw it happened 2 years ago, he asked others about it, but they just shook their head and told him to let her be. They wouldn’t give him any answers. And here she was, another year like that. It bothered him. He didn’t pry in to other people’s business, but he wanted to know what caused her to be so sad and stay in the library all day. He continued drinking his beer, glancing up at the top floor where Shorty was in the library. He was determined to stay here until she came down.
Levy found solace in the library. It’s where she could remember her mother and read books about her people. She didn’t come here often, only on the day, it helped her somehow. She had started crying, reading a book about her people, and ended up falling asleep on the desk. When she woke up, the sun was already setting. As she stretched, she noticed a note fall out of the book she was reading. That was the first time she’s ever seen a note fall from this book. She opened it and read.
My dear sweet child,
I’m sorry we had to part this way. I hope you can remember me, and know that you are loved. Never forget where you came from or who you are..
Your forever loving mother, Ardelle
Her tears were ever flowing then. She realized she hadn’t visited her island in over a decade, since that parting. She needed to go, she needed to visit her mother, her mother’s homeland, her homeland. It had been too long. She put the book up, and put the note in pocket, determined to visit the island on the next trip out. She ran downstairs out of the guild. Before she went, she needed to stop at the one place that reminded her of home.
It was a rare, almost intimate scene, between Michelle Obama and her mother, played out before the world. When a group of Chinese girls invited the first lady to skip rope at an event on the ancient city wall here, she kicked her heels off to slide on a pair of flats. Before an aide could swoop in and pick up her daughter’s shoes, Marian Robinson bent down to grab them.