Die gängige Klassifizierung des Kurdischen als „indoeuropäische Sprache“ ist ein linguistisches Konstrukt, das mehr über westliche Kategorisierungslogik aussagt als über die tatsächliche Herkunft der kurdischen Sprache und Kultur. Während Kurdisch heute formal zur iranischen Untergruppe der indoeuropäischen Familie gezählt wird, sprechen genetische, archäologische und strukturelle Hinweise dafür, dass diese Einordnung nur eine oberflächliche sprachliche Schicht beschreibt — nicht jedoch den Ursprung oder das Wesen der kurdischen Sprache selbst.

-—

1. Der geographische und kulturelle Ursprung des Kurdischen

Kurdistan liegt im Herzen des alten Zagros- und Taurusgebirges — eine Region, die seit der Frühgeschichte eine der zentralen Wiegen der Zivilisation war. Hier entwickelten sich frühe Staaten wie die der Gutier, Lullubi, Hurrier und Mannäer, lange bevor irgendeine indoeuropäische Sprache existierte.

Diese Völker sprachen agglutinierende, nicht-indoeuropäische Sprachen, die teilweise mit der hurro-urartäischen Sprachfamilie verwandt waren. Sie bildeten das kulturelle, genetische und territoriale Fundament, auf dem sich später das kurdische Volk entwickelte.

Dass das moderne Kurdisch Strukturen und Vokabular iranischer Prägung aufweist, erklärt sich daher aus späteren Kontakten mit iranischsprachigen Gruppen, die sich im 2. Jahrtausend v. Chr. in diese Region ausbreiteten. Doch diese Überlagerung war linguistisch, nicht ethnisch. Die Bevölkerung selbst blieb im Kern autochthon — Nachfahren der Zagros- und Hurrit-Kulturen.

-—

2. Sprachliche Schichten: Ein indoeuropäischer Anstrich auf nicht-indoeuropäischem Fundament

Vergleicht man das Kurdische mit klassischen iranischen Sprachen wie Altpersisch oder Avestisch, zeigen sich markante Abweichungen.

– Die Lautstruktur ist weicher, teilweise vokalreicher und erinnert an prä-iranische, hurritische Muster.

– Viele Wörter des Alltagsgebrauchs (z. B. für Natur, Familie, Körper, Tiere) haben keine echten indoeuropäischen Etymologien, sondern lassen sich auf lokale, altmesopotamische oder sogar kaukasische Wurzeln zurückführen.

– Auch die Syntax (Satzstruktur) zeigt Einflüsse, die mit den agglutinierenden Sprachen Nordmesopotamiens übereinstimmen.

Diese Merkmale deuten darauf hin, dass die indoeuropäische Schicht des Kurdischen ein später Import ist – vergleichbar mit einem Überzug, der die ursprüngliche Struktur überlagert, aber nicht ersetzt hat.

-—

3. Genetik und Archäologie stützen die Eigenständigkeit

Die genetische Zusammensetzung kurdischer Populationen weist eine starke Kontinuität zu bronzezeitlichen und eisenzeitlichen Gruppen wie den Mannäern, Gutiern und Hurriern auf.

Diese Völker existierten lange vor dem Auftreten indo-iranischer Gruppen in der Region.

Funde aus Hasanlu, Dinkha Tepe, und Teppe Rabat zeigen kulturelle und rituelle Kontinuitäten, die sich nicht mit den nordöstlichen Wanderungsbewegungen der Steppe erklären lassen.

Es ist daher irreführend, Kurdisch „indoeuropäisch“ zu nennen, nur weil spätere Sprachkontakte indoeuropäische Elemente hinterließen.

Die Bevölkerung und ihr kulturelles Gedächtnis sind wesentlich älter und eigenständiger.

-—

4. Das Kurdische als Brückensprache des alten Vorderen Orients

Das Kurdische ist nicht einfach „eine iranische Sprache“, sondern ein Hybrid mit lokaler Dominanz. Es vereint alte Zagros-Wurzeln mit Einflüssen aus Elam, Hurri, Aramäisch, Iranisch und sogar Kaukasisch.

Diese Vermischung spiegelt die geographische Realität Kurdistans wider:

eine Übergangszone, in der sich Kulturen begegneten, verschmolzen und doch eine eigene Identität bewahrten.

Die Sprache überdauerte Jahrtausende als Trägerin einer eigenständigen Denkweise, nicht als Ableger einer Steppe-Kultur. Sie ist damit ein lebendiges Zeugnis des alten mesopotamisch-kurdistanischen Erbes.

-—

5. Fazit

Kurdisch mag in heutigen Klassifikationen „indoeuropäisch“ heißen, doch das ist nur die äußere Form.

Inhaltlich, kulturell und historisch steht es auf einem Fundament, das viel älter ist — einem Fundament, das aus dem Herzen Mesopotamiens und des Zagros stammt.

Das Kurdische ist somit eine indigene Sprache Vorderasiens, die lediglich eine indoeuropäische Oberfläche angenommen hat, während ihr inneres Wesen und ihre tiefsten Wurzeln nicht-indoeuropäisch geblieben sind.

I hit diamond in all roles today, and I felt like I couldn’t tell others about it. So I played guitar for the first time in a while and just blasted that shit until I felt better. I’m overwhelmed today, and I feel sad because I work 9-5, work out or do hobbies, and then it’s 8 pm by the time I get to relax. And I miss being able to just spend time with people like I could in college. I miss a lot of stuff, and I’m holding nostalgia with caution.

I’ve made more progress on my blog poster program. I’m doing a few minor changes and adding new features before moving on to another service/platform. The images haven’t changed since my last post, so there are no new ones this time.

I added a Kudos button to my Write.as custom domain, michaelmitchell.blog. It’s powered by Tinylytics. I’ll probably be adding more features soon and doing some digital gardening along the way.

I also updated my Personal Events social media poster project.

Streamline your social media management with a versatile platform that allows simultaneous posting across multiple networks.

I hope to finish all the refinements and additions by the end of February. I’m taking it slow and thoroughly testing each connection to make sure every post, no matter the content, looks consistent across all platforms. Someday, I know I’ll settle on just one platform. But for now, I’m enjoying the process.

Chapter 12

Their House. They Gooned

#nsfw #claire

Each part of that ‘computer’ was auctioned off to the lowest bidder. Desk included. Claire and Nadia were wise to not have any part of that machine remain in tact given the circumstances.

Nadia no longer wanted to goon alone. Claire always welcomed her. The nightly routine of seeing each other became just as important as gooning as itself. Over time, they both decided to buy a house together and built each room as they saw fit. Every room had a screen playing porn. Windows were blacked out. Neon lights were placed everywhere, and high end speakers were always playing classical music and porn. This was their home. This was their truth. Their perversion was everything. Nadia perched on the edge of their shared king-size bed, her bare feet swinging idly between silken sheets. Nadia kept her promise. She still remained nude as much as possible for porn and Claire.

Every now and then, Nadia would catch Claire’s eye – those eyes that had once held a hint of something guarded, something almost professional, now sparkled with unadulterated desire, mirroring Nadia's own.

“You think it worked its magic” Nadia asked, tracing patterns on the duvet with her nail. Claire chuckled, a low rumble in her chest that resonated through Nadia’s core. “Completely,” she said, tossing the box onto a stack of others beside their overflowing recycling bin.

“Remember when you couldn't look at me without blushing? Now?” She crossed the room in a few long strides, kneeling before Nadia and capturing her lips in a kiss that tasted of freedom and shared fantasies.

“Now,” Nadia breathed into the kiss, “I can barely think straight when you’re near.”

Claire pulled back slightly, thumb stroking Nadia’s lower lip. “Good,” she murmured. “Because we have work to do.” She winked, a playful glint in her eyes that sent shivers down Nadia's spine. Work indeed.

Their days no longer followed the rigid structure of deadlines and responsibilities. They were free now, tethered only by their mutual obsession. Porn and masturbation were the very fabric of their existence. The house throbbed with the low pulse of an endless stream of porn – multiple screens scattered throughout each room, casting a perpetual glow on their bare limbs.

They had discovered new levels of pleasure together. Every goon session revealed new ways to explore their bodies and desires. Claire’s masterful curation fueled their digital erotic world. Nadia had never been one for spontaneity before; now she reveled in Claire's playful suggestions, each whispered prompt a delicious invitation into unknown territories.

One afternoon, perched on the edge of the bathtub, Nadia traced lazy circles on Claire’s back as they both watched a wonderfully pornographic scene unfold. A wave of heat pulsed through her, and she couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep within her chest.

“Remember when I thought this was all so weird?” she asked, tilting her head to press another kiss against Claire's shoulder blade. Claire laughed too, a husky rumble that resonated against Nadia’s cheek. “Who knew porn addiction could feel so damn good?” She leaned back into Nadia's touch, closing her eyes and savoring the feeling of contentment that had become as familiar and comforting as breathing.

Their lives weren't perfect – their days were sometimes punctuated by the sharp sting of withdrawal when a particularly captivating scene ended, leaving them craving more. They still bickered over whose turn it was to choose the right video, and there were nights when the constant bombardment of images left them both feeling oddly disconnected from the physical world. But the knew their world of porn was better than “their” world without porn.

But those moments were fleeting. Because the truth was, they had found each other in the space between reality and fantasy, two souls who’d learned to embrace the sheer exquisite beauty of their shared obsession. In their haven of screens and silken sheets, where the line blurred between the tangible and the virtual, Nadia and Claire knew they’d finally come home. They were lifestyle goonettes now, through and through – and they wouldn't have it any other way. -End

We remember from last week that we left Dorothy and her friends, and Princess Ozma and her crew, all tying to rescue the rightful Queen of Ev and her ten children. The Queen and her children were being held captive by the Nome King. Dorothy and Ozma were successful. And all returned to Ev where a huge celebration was held. The Queen told her rescuers they were welcome to stay in her land as honored guests. But Ozma said she needed to return to Oz to rule over her people. And Dorothy wanted to get back to her Uncle Henry in Australia and help nurse him back to health. So Ozma used her newly acquired magic belt and transported Dorothy to Uncle Henry's side.

And so ended Book 3 of 14, Ozma of Oz.

Now we find ourselves in Book 4, Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz.

Uncle Henry's health and disposition improved greatly when Dorothy returned to him. He decided he was well enough to return to his ranch in Kansas. He and Dorothy had a pleasant voyage back to America, and he went straight back to Kansas while Dorothy stayed a short while, visiting family in California. Her visit over, Dorothy and her pet cat, Eureka, and her cousin Zeb, were riding in a buggy pulled by an old horse named Jim. Then a big earthquake came.

Dorothy and her friends were swallowed up by a big crack in the ground. They fell, and fell, and finally landed in a glass city. Many of the buildings there, all made of glass, were damaged by rocks which rained down as a result of the earthquake above. A second “rock rain” followed shortly, caused by another quake above. And with this second, another buggy came down. A little man stepped out of this buggy and Dorothy happily recognized him as her old friend, the Wizard of Oz.

The Mangaboos, the vegetable people of the glass city, were not all happy with these new arrivals and chased them out of their land. They escaped into a big cave in the side of a mountain and wandered through other strange lands and had many adventures including fighting off an attack by Invisible Bears, and escaping from vicious wooden Gargoyles who captured them. Now they find themselves in a huge cave nervously surrounded by hungry young dragons who are waiting for their mother to return with food for them. They're hoping for an elephant, or maybe an ox...

And the adventure continues.

I’m working on a solo focused, hex crawling RPG with the working title Onward to the Horizon. I’m forging it in the dark, because Blades in the Dark by John Harper is a game that rewired my brain.

Reflecting on Blades, I stumbled into a thought that opened up my game space a bit.

Publishing of Blades is handled (in part) by Evil Hat, home of the Fate roleplaying game.

That connection sparked a link in my head a while ago: in some versions of Fate, skills are replaced by approaches. Approaches are how you do the thing, not the thing you’re doing. “I Cleverly hit the weak spot we found earlier” is as valid a framing as “With all my physical Force, I strike the weak spot.”

The three attributes most Blades games use can be best seen in this framing— they are the approach to the actions under them, how they are mentally framed by your character.

I’ve always loved how you gain dots in Blade Attributes— by getting the first dot in a new action. With this framing, you are expanding your mind by adding an action— “Oh, I can do this with this approach”.

But while working on Horizon, I had a realization.

A set Attribute to Action link is not required.

Horizon is going to, by its nature, be a little… broader in scope than typical Forged games. Because typical games made in the Dark (where the dirty work needs be done) usually have a defined setting to hang all the fiction around. And Horizon does— you are a wanderer, exploring a world. That gives us something. I just wanted a bit more variety in my wanderers.

My self playtest character is an adventurous chef, after all. But every character doesn’t need a cook action.

Every character doesn’t need that.

Every character…

Well, we don’t need to give it to every character, do we?

Each attribute in Horizon is ranked one to six. Each will have two “typical” adventurer actions linked to them by default.

And four empty slots.

Playbooks can include playbook actions that while not exclusive do mark what the character is focused on, and that combined with special abilities define each playbook.

So, yes. The fighter can take Cooking and make perfectly acceptable meal with the meat he bought off that hunter… but a Chef can work wonders because of his focus.

I think I’m cooking. But maybe it’s raw. Tell me on mastodon at @edwardclaytonandrew@kind.social

#RolePlaying #SoloRPG #GameDev

🐾 Running the Fence Line

en español al final

There’s something quietly sacred about the sight of two dogs running a fence line. One on each side — close enough to feel the other’s energy, yet divided by a thin barrier of wire and shadow.

Neither can cross over, and yet they run together, stride for stride.

It’s not about winning or escaping; it’s about belonging in motion.

The fence doesn’t stop the connection — it only gives it form.

For weeks, Mo has run that stretch alone.

She’s known the freedom of open ground, the kind that feels both exhilarating and lonely.

But today, she found another — a mirror on the other side — and something changed. The running became rhythm. The joy, shared.

Two souls met at the boundary, and the boundary bowed to joy.

I stood watching the two of them chase the morning light,

and I realized how often we find ourselves in that same space —

wanting to connect, yet walled by invisible lines: circumstance, distance, fear, or just the quiet ache of difference.

Still, we run.

And sometimes, grace sends someone who runs at our same pace.

Maybe that’s what companionship really is — not the removal of every fence,

but the faithfulness to keep running alongside one another,

even when touch is impossible and crossing over isn’t yet allowed.

The world will always have its fences.

But the Spirit keeps finding ways to remind us that connection is not confined by them.

Where there is movement, there can be meaning.

Where there is shared rhythm, there is relationship.

And when the sun rose higher and the air stilled, Mo and her new companion slowed,

panting, smiling in that wordless way dogs do —

as if to say that the joy wasn’t in catching anything,

but in discovering that even the boundaries of this life

can’t contain the need to be met.

Maybe that’s what hope looks like —

not the absence of barriers,

but the persistence of hearts that run toward one another anyway.

#RunningTheFenceLine #SilentSentinelWrites #LessonsFromTheWilderness #CompanionshipInMotion

© SilentSentinel, 2025. All rights reserved. Excerpts may be shared with attribution.

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🐾 Corriendo a lo Largo de la Valla

Hay algo calladamente sagrado en ver a dos perros correr a lo largo de una valla. Uno a cada lado — lo bastante cerca para sentir la energía del otro, pero separados por una delgada barrera de alambre y sombra.

Ninguno puede cruzar, y aun así corren juntos, paso a paso. No se trata de ganar ni de escapar; se trata de pertenecer en movimiento. La valla no detiene la conexión — solo le da forma.

Durante semanas, Mo ha corrido ese tramo sola. Ha conocido la libertad del campo abierto, esa que se siente tan estimulante como solitaria. Pero hoy encontró a otro — un reflejo al otro lado — y algo cambió. Correr se volvió ritmo. La alegría, compartida. Dos almas se encontraron en el límite, y el límite se inclinó ante la alegría.

Me quedé mirando cómo los dos perseguían la luz de la mañana, y comprendí cuántas veces nos encontramos en ese mismo espacio — deseando conectar, pero rodeados por líneas invisibles: la circunstancia, la distancia, el miedo o simplemente la callada punzada de la diferencia. Aun así, corremos. Y a veces, la gracia envía a alguien que corre a nuestro mismo paso.

Tal vez eso sea la verdadera compañía — no eliminar cada cerca, sino la fidelidad de seguir corriendo al lado del otro, aun cuando el contacto sea imposible y cruzar aún no esté permitido.

El mundo siempre tendrá sus cercas. Pero el Espíritu sigue encontrando maneras de recordarnos que la conexión no está limitada por ellas. Donde hay movimiento, puede haber significado. Donde hay ritmo compartido, hay relación.

Y cuando el sol se elevó y el aire se aquietó, Mo y su nuevo compañero redujeron el paso, jadeando, sonriendo en ese lenguaje sin palabras que solo los perros entienden — como diciendo que la alegría no estaba en alcanzar nada, sino en descubrir que incluso los límites de esta vida no pueden contener la necesidad de ser encontrados.

Tal vez eso sea lo que parece la esperanza — no la ausencia de barreras, sino la persistencia de corazones que corren uno hacia el otro, de todos modos.

#CorriendoALoLargoDeLaValla #SilentSentinelWrites #LeccionesDesdeElDesierto #CompañerismoEnMovimiento

© Silent Sentinel, 2025. Todos los derechos reservados. Se pueden compartir extractos con atribución.

Our Father Who art in heaven Hallowed be Thy name Thy Kingdom come Thy will be done on Earth as it is in heaven Give us this day our daily Bread And forgive us our trespasses As we forgive those who trespass against us And lead us not into temptation But deliver us from evil

Amen

Jesus is Lord! Come Lord Jesus!

Come Lord Jesus! Christ is Lord!

Landing on Venus

Without any rope The escalator had stopped And I called my Mom While being eaten by giant Tuna Whom the Moon had sent there For feed And I kinda liked the temperature And set fire there With Boney M

We forget that we have majesty attached to the ends of our legs.

---

What Color

What color will she dip her toes into— sunrise blush or ocean sigh? Will it shimmer with forgiveness, or bloom as memory of springtime light?

Perhaps the hue the moon once wore when she waltzed with the tide, or the secret shade that glows between her breasts.

Whatever she chooses, the world will hush to watch— for beauty stands in awe to witness such small, holy things.

---

As for Me

As for me—no hand will tread upon these feet. Alas, they are mere stumps for trodding.

I sally forth to build a small respite for an old woman, where she may sip her coffee and gaze upon her kingdom— to reflect on the life she lived and the life still waiting to be lived.

---

---

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#essay #100daystooffset #writing #sxs

Good Day All. I hope you are enjoying good weather. Maybe it's sunny and pleasant or rainy because you need rain.

While you have been hard at work so you can pay your taxes, POTUS is arranging to put his mug on the coins that Congress previously authorized to celebrate our 250th Anniversary in 2026.

It is reported that POTUS plans to put his ugly face on the front and a picture of him standing in front of our flag with his fist raised on the reverse, with the words “Fight Fight Fight” underneath. I wonder why he is encouraging citizens to fight. Do he and his cohorts hope to foment a Civil War? You bet he does. Civil War is the whole point of the chaos they create. But why a war among ourselves? Because such a war will give POTUS and his friends unprecedented power. That is the whole purpose of his administration. Then he can destroy those parts of our government that they don't like. It is all detailed in Project 2025 from the Heritage Foundation which POTUS is following.

The Education Department and Department of Environmental Protection are just two. The Education Department is charged with helping school districts promote the learning of students. POTUS prefers ignorant people he and his friends can control through their lies. The Department of Environmental Protections through which our government currently enforces such laws as clean air and water are hated by POTUS. Enforcing these regulations, while protecting our health, costs the friends of POTUS money. Who is more important, you who rarely contribute to politicians or corporations who have line items in their budgets just for this purpose.

POTUSRoaster

Stay safe and be well. Say Hi to your neighbors. If you would like to read more of what I write, go to write.as/potusroaster. If you want to make a comment on what I write, send an email to potusroaster@gmail.com I would love to know what you think.

Another day, another post written on the fly.

I wrote, after I removed the Twitter/X app, that without reading and scrolling there, I will have more time to write posts. Haha. What a good joke that was. 😅

Now I do the same on Mastodon and Bluesky but with less toxic content. It’s an improvement, but not towards more content output from my side.

At least I recognized the bad behavior, immediately closed the apps, opened Obsidian, and started writing about my mistake.

Today is again a day full of stuff I didn’t plan to do, but it needs to be done. Sadly, no time for writing a quality post.

I need to get back to my stuff. 👋

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33 of #100DaysToOffload
#log
Thoughts?

My apologies, I'm unprepared. Let me help you down the hall. I've been out all day sketching - well, sort of searching. There was a wave, a whole dispersal along the thoroughfare. Like a displacement: you could SEE it. I didn't, this time. Oh yes, let her lie there, that rug is old. I'll be out again tomorrow. There's something else I can't describe - I'm so sorry, you'd have to see it. The pink-grey mass growing bigger: it comes from there. What an embarrassment, I can't apologise enough. It wouldn't, anyway, help you if you saw it.