family
Family unites us; but it's also a challenge. All about fighting to stay together, and loving every moment of it.
Sand and Soil
A Memoir by Stetson Glass I’ve started to think the soul is shaped like a map—creased, torn, smudged by the fingers that keep trying to fold it back into something neat. I’ve spent most of my life tracing routes someone else drew for me: church aisles, chalk-lined classrooms, marriage vows, griefs disguised as callings. Now I’m learning to redraw it—not to find my way back, but to understand where I got lost.
By SUEDE the poet2 months ago in Humans
The Journey of Life: From Youth to Wisdom
Human life is a journey woven with seasons, each carrying its unique color, rhythm, and purpose. From the fire of youth to the balance of maturity and finally the serenity of old age, every phase teaches us something essential about who we are and who we are destined to become. Life is not one continuous line but a collection of chapters — each one shaping the soul, polishing the heart, and preparing us for the next.
By hamad khan2 months ago in Humans
The Truth Reflected Through Another Lens
For more than a century, photographs have stood as the gold standard for what is real, serving as the world’s collective proof of authenticity. A camera was the vessel through which truth was captured, a silent witness to time. Yet the rise of artificial intelligence has disrupted that assumption, not by erasing reality, but by reframing it. When we see an AI-generated image, our instinct is often to dismiss it as fake. We assume that because a camera was not involved, the image cannot be trusted. But that confuses process with meaning. The truth of an image does not depend on the tool that created it. It depends on who or what it represents.
By Peter Thwing - Host of the FST Podcast2 months ago in Humans
The Letter That Arrived 20 Years Late
By Kashif Safi --- The morning began like any other. Margaret sat by her window, a cup of tea in hand, watching the soft drizzle fall over her small garden. At seventy-one, her days had grown quiet, filled with slow walks, old photographs, and the soft hum of the radio that never changed stations.
By Muhammad Kashif 2 months ago in Humans
“The Umbrella in Apartment 17”
The Umbrella in Apartment 17 By [Ali Rehman] The hallway outside Apartment 17 was dimly lit and usually quiet. It was the kind of space most people hurried through without a second glance—just a passage from the door to the world beyond. But for years, there was one small, forgotten object that quietly connected the lives of strangers: an old, battered umbrella.
By Ali Rehman2 months ago in Humans
“My Mother’s Calendar”
My Mother’s Calendar By [Ali Rehman] In the quiet corner of our modest kitchen hung an old, faded calendar. It was the kind of calendar you never gave much thought to—just another thing on the wall, silently marking the passage of days. But for me, it became something far more profound when I accidentally discovered its secret.
By Ali Rehman2 months ago in Humans
When ‘Almost’ Broke My Heart
There is a special kind of pain in almost. Almost is that space between hope and heartbreak, between possibility and reality, where your heart hangs in the balance and sometimes, just sometimes, it shatters. I know because I have been there. I have loved someone in a way that made me believe in forever, only to realize that forever wasn’t mine to keep. Almost broke my heart, and it took time, tears, and courage to learn how to survive it.
By Kashif Wazir2 months ago in Humans
The Text That Ended Everything
It arrived on a quiet afternoon, a notification that seemed harmless at first. I didn’t know it then, but that single text would change everything. The words were short, precise, and final — the kind that leaves no room for argument, no space for negotiation, no hope for repair. It felt like a punch I couldn’t see coming, a sudden storm that tore through the calm I had built around myself. That message didn’t just break my day — it broke a world I thought was unshakable.
By Kashif Wazir2 months ago in Humans
How It Feels to Love Someone Who’s Already Gone
Loving someone who’s already gone is a strange kind of pain. It’s not sudden or loud, like an argument or a broken promise. It’s quiet, constant, and it settles in your chest like a weight you can’t lift. Their absence is everywhere — in the empty chair at dinner, in the silence of your phone, in the little habits that no longer match with anyone else. Loving someone who’s gone means living with memories that sting and comfort at the same time.
By Kashif Wazir2 months ago in Humans
When Forever Lasted Only a Season
There was a time I believed in forever. The word itself felt like a promise, soft and unbreakable. It rolled off our tongues so easily, like we were spelling out a destiny written just for us. We said “forever” in text messages, whispered it under moonlight, carved it into the backs of our memories like it could hold time still. But forever, I learned, sometimes only lasts a season. And when that season ends, it leaves behind both the warmth of what was and the chill of what will never be again.
By Kashif Wazir2 months ago in Humans
