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Military Hospital Rawalpindi

The Military Hospital Rawalpindi is the biggest clinic of the Pakistan Armed Forces, being one of the medical clinics in the Pakistan Army with an ISO accreditation, situated in the city of Rawalpindi. Before freedom in 1947 it was known as the British Indian Military Hospital Rawalpindi. Its commandant/CEO is a serving Major General of Army Medical Corps. It has one agent commandant with the position of brigadier and two partner commandants (executives) with the position of Colonel. Its family wing is taken care of by a Lady Medical Officer with the position of brigadier. It is a partnered emergency clinic of the Army Medical College and Armed Forces Post Graduate Medical Institute, Rawalpindi. It is likewise a showing foundation for medical attendants and paramedics.  https://youtu.be/OXTdENF9tDU https://vimeo.com/496410200 https://www.veoh.com/users/guitalreviews https://josecohen181.wistia.com/medias/ldn3pkd0xd https://www.flickr.com/people/guitalreviewscom/ https://www.tumblr....
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25 great first lines of poetry - piano

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Mexico rises into view like a textbook description of a dead civilization; from the poem Roadside , by Esteban Rodriguez   O Captain! My Captain! Our fearful trip is done; from the poem O Captain! My Captain! , by Walt Whitman   I saw the best minds of my generation, destroyed by madness from the poem Howl , by Allen Ginsberg https://wyminki.tumblr.com/post/638197406108975104/christmas-2020-xmas-greetings-new-year-wishes https://wrecking-queen.tumblr.com/post/638197599907840000/happy-new-year-2021-marathi-wishes-sms-messages https://wood159.tumblr.com/post/638197956544184320/happy-new-year-2021-marathi-wishes-sms-messages https://uwiscseagrant.tumblr.com/post/638198235808317440/merry-christmas-gifs-images-and-memes-to-share    The first boy to kiss your mother later raped women from the poem Your mother's first kiss , by Warsan Shire   All you violated ones with gentle hearts; from the poem For Malcolm X , by Margaret Abigail Walker   All night ...
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The acacia trees, a poem by Derek Walcott

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I You used to be able to drive (though I don't) across the wide, pool-sheeted pasture below the house to the hot, empty beach and park in the starved shade of the acacias that print those tiny yellow flowers (blank, printless beaches are part of my trade); then there were men with tapes and theodolites who measured the wild, uneven ground. I watched the doomed acres where yet another luxury hotel will be built with ordinary people fenced out. The new makers of our history profit without guilt and are, in fact, prophets of a policy that will make the island a mall, and the breakers grin like waiters, like taxi drivers, these new plantations by the sea; a slavery without chains, with no blood spilt� just chain-link fences and signs, the new degradations. I felt such freedom writing under the acacias. II Bossman, if you look in those bush there, you'll find a whole set of passport, wallet, I.D., credit card, that is no use to them, is money on their mind and is not every time you...
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