like winning the lottery / or finding God in your sock drawer.
I think love is something
that happens to other people-nebulous,
distant, an invention of the movies; I think love is like death/as in,
it happens to everyone but you
until it happens / to you,
and then where else could you be
but in love? Where else could you be but in
the belly of the beast, / that oozing cavern
where people go in fairy tales? I think
love
is a creation. I think maybe you shape it
with your hands, I think maybe you find it
stuck in your molars, I think maybe it comes to you
when you're in the shower, your face tilted
towards the water while your mind melts somewhere
else, I think maybe
we've all been naming it
wrong.
You know that love? That falling-to-your-knees love?
That where'd-the-water-go love? That
hold-me-close-I'll-never-leave-I-know-your-favorite-
coffee-creamer love? That what-we-talk-about-when-we-
talk-about-love love? You ever felt that? I mean,
really felt any of that? / Yeah, tell me again
how you feel it. Yeah, tell me again / how it fills
the chest, fills the head, fills the
lungs. Tell me
again
what it means to find God in your sock drawers. Tell me
again.

I was reading about the battle and saw that following the crushing defeat of the Ottomans, Timur's army sacked Smyrna at the far western end of Anatolia.

If they were that far into the Ottoman territory operating with such impunity that they were sacking coastal towns on the Agean, what kept them from conquering and incorporating at least the Asiatic side of the Ottoman empire?

How did the Ottomans not collapse at that time, especially considering that the loss at Ankara was followed by years of internal division in their empire?

I was recently reading on wikipedia about the history of Afghanistan and of course, Tamerlane popped up in the reading. He was described as a Turko-Mongol Persianate?? What does that even mean? Any insight would be appreciated. Thank you!

Edit: Thank you guys for all information!

We wear the mask that grins and lies, It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,- This debt we pay to human guile; With torn and bleeding hearts we smile, And mouth with myriad subtleties.

Why should the world be overwise, In counting all our tears and sighs? Nay, let them only see us, while     We wear the mask.

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries To thee from tortured souls arise. We sing, but oh the clay is vile Beneath our feet, and long the mile; But let the world dream otherwise,     We wear the mask!

How well would his army do against the Ming dynasty?

What have you received in the past? What did you appreciate/disregard? (Optional: how old were you when you received it?)

Thanks for reading. I hope it helps you, like it helped me.

Puzzle

I don't recall what happened

But I know how it felt,

You broke me into pieces

And showed which parts to hate.

You put me back together

Smaller, incomplete,

Then told me "How I love you!"

A lie that I adore.

 

I gladly joined your mission,

Rejection hurt me more,

And broke myself in pieces

The hated parts, I beat.

Now piecing back together,

20 years too late,

I can't recall what happened

Only how I felt.

Sweatin’ sweatin’, talking pish Trying to say I’m fine Put things down, get ready It’s almost seizure’ time

Goin’ all stiff and groaning Losing all control Hit the deck and bite your tongue Shake and rattle and roll

Pllplpl-pllpll-pllpll-chht Oaaaaaaachhhhh! Nmnmmgggghnnnhkl Nmm nmm mmmsloach

Don’t even know what day it is April or is it December? I had some more ideas But now I can’t remember

Tired tired, go to sleep Guess who’s out of luck, shite! No driving for another year ‘Cause my brain don’t work right

Sorry that you had to wait for hours In A&E with bated breath Sorry if I bit your hand Or scared you half to death

Pills, pills, take your drugs They chase the bad away They stop you takin’ a whitey And help you seize the day

EDIT. With my mind like a colander at the minute I stopped typing before the end of the title. I’m Scottish so the language might not make sense to those who don’t speak yer maw

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nc4MCFrPiUg The circumstances that led to one of the biggest fights between the Muslim empires very nicely explained. This channel is pretty new but I think it deserves support for doing a great job. There are other short history documentaries there, all worth the watch. I'm not in any way connected with the channel but I did ask the creators for permission to post it here and I have consent.

Where were you, dear mommy, on those oh so many nights when that ship came crashing down on me bringing terror, pain and spite?

I was only a little child then - how could I possibly have known - that I wasn't to blame for Daddy's pain but I'd pay the price tenfold?

I looked for you. I called your name. But not once did you ever come. Were you someplace else like I was imagining a God that would shelter everyone?

Were you scared as much as I was? Did you hide just like me too? Somewhere deep inside where he couldn't find you - a place that no one knows but you.

I love you mom, no matter what; yet questions haunt my mind. Why did you let us suffer all those years and keep quiet all this time?

Were you too scared to stand up for us, because of what he might say or do? If yes, then I'm glad that I was born so he'd hit me rather than hitting you.

Still! Why? When I came to you looking for your shelter and your safety did you say, 'Your father wouldn't lay a hand on you.' And then watch him batter and break me.

That ship left scars on me for life and his fist colored my skin black and blue. One thing he never took from me though was my fight to always pull through.

I forgive you, mom. I know you tried and I hope that you do, too. Just remember that saying I love you is better understood with a hug or two.

For me, this has to be one of the most perplexing quotes from Forrest.

Here's the full quote:

"Searchers have routinely revealed where they think the treasure was hidden and walked me through the process that took them on that course. That’s how I know a few have identified the first two clues. Although others were at the starting point I think their arrival was an aberration and they were oblivious to its connection with the poem." FF

How could a searcher could be at the starting point (WWWH) and be unaware of it's connection with the poem? To me, that means:

1. If WWWH is something obvious like a hot spring or thermal feature, then it's probably not in an out of the way place, like at the end of a dead-end road, or at the destination point of a hiking trail. If a searcher put in the effort to drive or walk to that place specifically, that probably means they were connecting it to the poem as a potential WWWH.
2. WWWH is probably positioned along a main road or trail where it could easily be passed by. Perhaps it isn't well marked. River/creek confluences would apply here. Although Forrest's comments indicating it's literal warm water that you can actually feel and "dip your toe in" may rule out a river confluence. For that to be true, Forrest would need to be pretty sure the water would be warm most of the year when people are searching, and practically every river/creek/stream (not associated with a thermal feature) in the Rockies is cool or cold.
3. If WWWH isn't something as obvious as a thermal feature, it may be some kind of main attraction or destination that people "arrive" at, like a waterfall, a scenic overlook, a geologic formation, etc. It may be something a searcher might stop and check out to take photos, but not recognize as a potential WWWH. But, again, if WWWH is some abstract concept we're supposed to apply to some other landmark, that contradicts his statements about literal warm water.

For a long time I thought WWWH might have nothing to do with actual warm water, however some audio released recently might have changed my mind.

Check out this video at 6:50
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q37pTiI0u_I

And this video at 5:30
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zxTRJt5j0v8

This leaves me thinking that WWWH probably is an actual thermal feature with literal warm water that you could dip your toe in to feel its tempera

From poem ' Fire and Ice' - Robert Frost

I've started John Darwin, After Tamerlane: The Rise and Fall of Global Empires, 1400-2000. The broad outlines of Western imperialism are familiar to me, though his theses put quite a different interpretation on them.

The History of China Podcast by Chris Stewart (/u/cthulhushrugged), even just up to the fall of Tang (as far as I've gotten), had rather a lot about central Asian barbarians. The History of Byzantium podcast from Robin Pierson has touched on them. I realized that I know little about them.

A book covering empires up to 1405 would be massive and incoherent, but are there any, maybe one just covering the bigger ones? Or any good book on large central Asian polities when they went and broke all their neighbors' nice things, or Transoxiana: What the Hell Was It and What the Hell Was There?, or something?

Everyone forgets that Icarus also flew.
It's the same when love comes to an end,
or the marriage fails and people say
they knew it was a mistake, that everybody
said it would never work. That she was
old enough to know better. But anything
worth doing is worth doing badly.
Like being there by that summer ocean
on the other side of the island while
love was fading out of her, the stars
burning so extravagantly those nights that
anyone could tell you they would never last.
Every morning she was asleep in my bed
like a visitation, the gentleness in her
like antelope standing in the dawn mist.
Each afternoon I watched her coming back
through the hot stony field after swimming,
the sea light behind her and the huge sky
on the other side of that. Listened to her
while we ate lunch. How can they say
the marriage failed? Like the people who
came back from Provence (when it was Provence)
and said it was pretty but the food was greasy.
I believe Icarus was not failing as he fell,
but just coming to the end of his triumph.

Would be cool if others have the guts I don't currently have to share stuff you've written. Most of mine are unfinished brain farts.

we're a stunted little paragraph blowing in the wind,
full of maybes and we could have beens.
We're winter nights dancing through the sky,
dreaming of warmth and summer, burntskin sunscreen.
We're fruits hanging from a tree,
ripe with promise and fearing bitter seeds.

We're dripping photographs in darkrooms waiting to become something beautiful.

You and I, we're not fancy like fireworks. Sparks
are the little lights that dance between us when we smile.
Sparks are private things, and they shine more prettily
when no one else can see them except you and me.

So when I write poetry about us,
it won't be about mountains and kisses
and rosebushes vomiting bouquets.
Because this is what I want to tell the world:

the both of us, we're stones and branches and imperfect things.
And that's exactly why we fit.

What is a good way to develop writings for your world? I love how WOT has dozens of songs, and tunes and how it just adds so much to the actual story. I love how old books by forgoten men can become foreshadowing in GOT. Do you have any tips on how to develop such 'mini stories' songs and poems?

Because this case is linked to a major terrorist incident, much has been written and there is a lot to say about it, much more than I can do here. And yet this triple murder is veiled in mystery, with little insight to the public. I will try to summarize as best I can:

"A triple homicide was committed in Waltham, Massachusetts, on the evening of September 11, 2011.[2][3] Brendan Mess, Erik Weissman, and Raphael Teken were murdered in Mess's apartment. All had their throats slit from ear to ear, with such great force that they were nearly decapitated. Thousands of dollars' worth of marijuana and money were left covering their mutilated bodies, and $5,000 was left at the scene. The local district attorney said that it appeared that the killer and the victims knew each other, and that the murders were not random."

Brendan Mess was a locally well-known MMA fighter and put up a violent struggle. Teken was a personal trainer and Weissman was a bodybuilder. The three were killed in different rooms. It was Mess's apartment; the others were his friends. Weissman happened to be couch-surfing there for the night. Mess was also in the midst of a high-conflict breakup at the time.

"Tamerlan Tsarnaev, the deceased suspect in the 2013 Boston Marathon bombings, had previously described murder victim Brendan Mess as his best friend, though before Mess was murdered there had been animosity between Tsarnaev and Mess over Mess's "lifestyle". After the bombings and subsequent revelations of Tsarnaev's personal life, the Waltham murders case was reexamined in April 2013 with Tsarnaev as a new suspect.[2] Authorities said Tsarnaev and his younger brother Dzhokhar Tsarnaev may have been responsible for the triple homicide, that forensic evidence connected them to the scene of the killings, and that their cell phone records placed them in the area. While police in the first investigation said that victims were killed on September 12, The Boston Globe, Boston Herald, and The Wall Street Journal reported that at least one relative of the victims believes that the killings took place on September 11.[2][4]"

Interestingly, the three victims of the triple murder were all Jewish American (and yet, Brendan Mess and Tamerlan Tsarnaev were, at least at one time, best friends?)

"In May 2013, Ibragim Todashev, a 27-year-old Chechen native and former mixed martial arts fighter who knew Tamerlan Tsarnaev, was shot and killed in Orlando, Florida, by law enforcement officers who had been i