وهران- توفي يوم الأحد بوهران الصحفي السابق بوكالة الأنباء الجزائرية عبد الله بن دنية عن عمر ناهز 79 سنة, حسبما علم لدى مقربين منه.
و قد التحق الفقيد بمكتب وهران لوكالة الأنباء الجزائرية كصحفي خلال السبعينيات من القرن الماضي وتدرج في المسؤوليات إلى غاية توليه خلال سنة 1986 منصب مسؤول المكتب الجهوي بوهران ليستفيد من حقه في التقاعد خلال سنة 1999.
وقد عرف عن الراحل في حياته المهنية اهتمامه بالكتابة عن المجال الثقافي والفني وعن تاريخ مدينة وهران ورجالها وتراثها.
و عمل الصحفي الراحل عبد الله بن دنية بعد تقاعده بيومية “الوطن” كمتعاون بمكتبها بوهران كما اشتغل لفترة كرئيس خلية الإعلام و الإتصال ببلدية وهران.
وأمام هذا المصاب, يتقدم المدير العام لوكالة الأنباء الجزائرية, السيد سمير قايد, بخالص عبارات التعازي وأصدق مشاعر المواساة الى عائلة الفقيد, سائلا المولى عز وجل أن يتغمده بواسع رحمته ويسكنه فسيح جناته ويلهم أهله وذويه جميل الصبر والسلوان.
Virtue, they say, lies in the middle, but who among us can truly say where the middle is? Is it a fixed point, or does it shift with time, perception, and context? Perhaps the middle is not a place but a way of moving, a constant balancing act between excess and deficiency. Maybe to be virtuous is not to reach the middle but to dance around it with grace.
Virtue, they say, lies in the middle, but who among us can truly say where the middle is? Is it a fixed point, or does it shift with time, perception, and context? Perhaps the middle is not a place but a way of moving, a constant balancing act between excess and deficiency. Maybe to be virtuous is not to reach the middle but to dance around it with grace.
Even the gods, if they exist, must laugh from time to time. Perhaps what we call tragedy is merely comedy from a higher perspective, a joke we are too caught up in to understand. Maybe the wisest among us are not the ones who take life the most seriously, but those who can laugh at its absurdity and find joy even in the darkest moments.
Man is said to seek happiness above all else, but what if true happiness comes only when we stop searching for it? It is like trying to catch the wind with our hands—the harder we try, the more it slips through our fingers. Perhaps happiness is not a destination but a state of allowing, of surrendering to the present and realizing that we already have everything we need.
Time is often called the soul of motion, the great measure of change, but what if it is merely an illusion? What if we are not moving forward but simply circling the same points, like the smoke from a burning fire, curling back onto itself, repeating patterns we fail to recognize? Maybe the past and future are just two sides of the same moment, and all we ever have is now.