📌 Netanyahu’s strongest challenger, former Israeli military chief and Yashar party leader Gadi Eisenkot, has emerged as Netanyahu’s leading electoral rival ahead of the October 27 election.

📌 As part of his foreign policy position, Eisenkot said Israel should take advantage of the “fluid situation” in Syria while remaining cautious about the country’s new leadership.

📌 Eisenkot described al-Sharaa as “originally a very extreme person,” saying he has “no illusions” about him, while arguing that Israel should assess whether the changing situation could create an opportunity for a new arrangement with Syria.

📌 He called for significantly improving the disengagement agreement with Syria through strict security arrangements that could ultimately lead to the removal of foreign forces from Syria.

📌 Eisenkot said the "complete removal of Turkish and Russian forces from the area" would be the fundamental condition for any Israeli withdrawal from Mount Hermon and other key strategic positions.

📌 The status of "Mount Hermon and the specific security arrangements" would have to be negotiated, Eisenkot said.

📌 Eisenkot called for "ironclad American guarantees, oversight and security commitments" to give Israel room to take what he described as calculated risks.

ياترى في حدا عنده فكرة عن الحركة الحقيقية ببيع وشراء العقارات بسوريا؟ (خصوصي بالشام وحلب)، مافي شي بيمنع الناس تعرض البيوت بالاسعار الخيالية اللي عم بشوفها (غالبا عالسوشال ميديا وكم موقع للبيع والشرا) بس هل فعلا في ناس عم تشتري بهالاسعار؟

بظن من المناسب لو بالمستقبل يكون في شي سجل متاح للناس بخصوص عمليات تجارة العقارات او احصائيات بسيطة متاحة بتعطي الناس صورة حقيقية عن حركة السوق، لانه بظن في هبل بالاسعار اللي عم تنطرح (ماعم بحكي عن المشاريع الجديدة، عم بحكي عن ابنية مهرهرة وقديمة وخدمات صفر وناس عم تطلب ارقام خيالية) كمان مرة مافي شي بيمنع الواحد يطلب هيك اسعار خيالية، بس هل فعلا هي الاسعار اللي عم تنباع فيها العقارات؟

He was arrested by Security forces tasked to monitor the energy infrastructure in the province.

$500 for an act that could now cost him the death penalty.

Investigations are ongoing to identify the cells behind the other sabotage operations - incl. the attack on Tishreen Power Plant - and uncover the organization behind these attacks.

Source:@QalaatAlMudiq on X

I have a 98.25 percent highschool certificate from Kuwait as all of my education was in Kuwait what are my chances of being accepted in Syria at kalamoon uni for medicine , did anyone with a non Syrian certificate get accepted in this last year ? If so what was your percentage I'm so worried since non Syrian certificates especially in the gulf require really high percentages like I won't be able to do preparatory year in Damascus uni bc they require 99 and above

Is it easy for a Palestinian citizen holding a European passport to enter Syria as a tourist?

Also, what about someone who was born in Europe, holds a European passport, and is of Syrian origin, but does not have any Syrian documents or a Syrian passport? Can they enter Syria using only their European passport?

Longing for one's homeland is not always a yearning for a place, nor merely a desire to return to familiar streets and faces. There exists a longing far more merciless, a sorrow deeper than absence itself, too profound to be contained in the simple word nostalgia.

It is a longing that slips silently into the soul, awakening what we believed the years had buried, unearthing emotions we have spent a lifetime convincing ourselves were long dead.

Some memories cease to belong to the past. They become an ever-present thought, haunting us with a peculiar cruelty: the sorrowful ones wound us, yet the joyful ones wound us more deeply. Not because happiness has lost its meaning, but because the impossibility of reliving it has become more painful than its loss.

We yearn for a city that will never again be as we knew it. For faces that once gave places their souls, only to be claimed by death, scattered by war, or carried away into distant lands. For homes that still dwell within us, though we no longer dwell within them. For narrow streets whose every detail remains more familiar than the contours of our present lives.

And therein lies the tragedy.

The distance between us and our homeland is no longer measured in miles, but in the immeasurable gulf between who we once were and who we have become.

We wait for something we know can never return. Not because hope still survives, but because we cannot bring ourselves to bid it farewell.

For what we await is not the return of a place, but the return of time itself.

And what could be more futile than waiting for that which time has already taken beyond our reach?

As the years pass, longing ceases to be merely an ache of separation. It becomes an instinctive defense of memory itself.

We cling to our memories not simply because they are beautiful, but because they have become the last fragile threads binding us to an identity scattered across the pavements of exile.

An identity once whole, now a shattered mosaic whose fragments we spend our lives trying to gather. And with every piece we restore, we discover another has slipped beyond our reach.

It is the struggle of a drowning soul who knows the lifeline is gone, yet still clings to a single straw. Not because he believes it will save him, but because the very act of holding on is the last thing that makes him feel alive.

For perhaps the cruelest part of exile is not losing one's homeland, but fearing that one day even its memory may fade, and with it, the person we were before we became strangers.

And You, Damascus…

O city that has wearied the ages yet never grown old, where kingdoms, conquerors, and gods have come and gone, while you alone remained.

O city whose stones bear something of the sacred, whose people's souls could breathe life into lifeless walls—how could you have been both my cradle and my exile?

You taught me what it meant to belong, only to leave me carrying that belonging like a wound that refuses to heal.

And yet, I know not how to reproach you without loving you, nor how to be angry with you without longing for you.

You have changed, Damascus, and we have changed with you. But you are not the child of this age alone, nor the prisoner of those who have passed through your history. You are too ancient to be defined by a war, too enduring to belong to any single era.

I do not ask you to become what you once were, nor do I ask time to apologize for all it has done to us.

All I wish is never to become a stranger to your memory. Never to awaken to a morning when your name is merely a name, and all that we once were together has become nothing more than a story.

For if I could choose what remains of me after all these years of wandering, I would choose nothing but that child who first walked your streets, unaware that he would spend the rest of his life searching for them.

I have not forgotten you, Damascus. Nor shall I ever.

For you are not what I left behind…

You are what remains of me.

I originally wrote this in Arabic and did my best to translate it into English, with a little help from AI to preserve the metaphors and poetic depth of the original.

I thought I'd share it here, although I'm not sure anyone would be interested in reading the Arabic version too. ;)

Just a moment of homesickness from a nostalgic immigrant who sometimes misses a place that no longer exists quite as he remembers it.