Through every word, seeks to build bridges — one story, one voice, one moment of peace at a time.
The olive tree had been there longer than anyone could remember. Its trunk was twisted and wide, roots gripping the earth like the hands of someone who refused to let go. Every summer, its branches shimmered with silver-green leaves, and when the wind passed through, they whispered — not loudly, but enough for those who paused to hear.
By M.Farooq3 months ago in Humans
When the world below buzzed and roared, the roof was quiet. Mina discovered it by accident — a narrow stairwell behind the laundry room of her apartment building that led to a forgotten rooftop. The first time she pushed open the old iron door, it groaned in protest. A gust of wind greeted her, carrying city dust and the distant hum of traffic.
There was once a village that had forgotten the sound of peace. It wasn’t that wars had torn through it, or that fires had burned its homes.
In the corner of a bustling city, there was a small café that most people passed by without noticing. Its windows were fogged from the warmth inside, and the bell above the door rang softly whenever someone entered.
