Kochi, thought of as a can of storm clouds, synchronies with Govind's mood. With time the once lively canvasses of his dreams had faded away and all that was left were their shadows in a neglected diary. Surfing through social media at stormy nights, each photo a glorious post card from a life he was not living, Govind felt the heartbreak. Prompted by that overwhelming desire, he messaged Neha, a ray of sunshine in his college days. A reunion was arranged. The city, engulfed in gloom, acted as the setting for their meeting at a tiny café. Govind's heart surfaced, admitting the void that had consumed him. Neha was listening with a tear rolling on her face. "Life's a cruel joke, Govind," she confessed in a faint voice. "We run after dreams that vanish when we draw too close to them. Perhaps, after all, dreams aren't that much important in the larger picture of things." Govind looked outside and the buildings blurred.  Her words shattered the fragile hope clinging to him. Was this life the same as a storm, and then the return to normal routine? The café isolated him, the city lights laughing at him. It was hard to tell which day was which as they all ran into each other. Then, there was a resounding knock that broke the monotony. Here is Neha, an old photo album in her hand. It was their college album, an emblem of their dreams realized. They sat; the album a time bridge spanning years. Every old image is like a window to a time when something can be done. An image of festival, happiness glowing in the eyes of youngsters. Another, the arms slung around each other, a sign of the past closeness. Each image is like a shard of a broken mirror – reflecting joy and shattering the illusion of their imagined futures. It couldn't be the future they have been planning for. Silence was all around, only the wind mourning outside. Neha began to speak, her voice quavering. " I went back, Govind" she confessed. "Travelled, ticked things off a list. But..." That was how she saw it in Govind's eyes – the displeasure, the sense that there was no longer any magic in dreams. "It wasn't enough," she whispered. "The chasing never ends." The album fell open to a blank page – it was an abstract representation of their unfulfilled dreams. A bottomless sadness invaded Govind. They weren't only mourning their dreams; they were grieving the life they could have shared together. Neha put her hand on him, the gesture of united grief. They weren't just individuals, but rather the shattered image of what could have been. A rumble of thunder accentuated the silence. Neha stood up her chin raised and her face shining with sorrow and determination. "I am sorry, but I have to go," she said. "But Govind, perhaps life isn't about great gestures. Maybe it's these small, everyday moments, the people we meet and the love we share?" She finished and then she went but her words stayed, a small spark of hope set in the arctic of his warm heart. He gazed at the photo album and the white page before him a frightening sight. On the other hand, he was filled with gloom, but, as he tried to find it, he recalled their joint past – the laughter, the friendship, the tacit understanding that they had between them. Neha was right. Maybe life isn't about achieving the greatness. Perhaps it was about the bonds he had forged, the times he lived to the fullest, and the love he had for the people in his life. Govind was touched , a lone tear rolling down his cheek. He could no longer regain the past, but at least, he could decide to exist in the present. Maybe, yes, maybe indeed it was still possible to see beauty in the ordinary things. The rains came to an end, opening a narrow slit of moonlight. It wasn't a loud glare, but an enlightened glow, a hope for a brighter tomorrow. He approached the window, to his surprise, determination started to replace the despair. He wouldn't be a slave to his dreams but he wouldn't omit them either. He carried them with him like a memento, both a reminder of the past and a guide to the future. Kochi used to be in some sort of darken. Now, it sparkled under the pale moon. It was still alive with activity. He breathed deeply. He didn't know what would happen next, but it was the first time in a while that he felt the smallest glimpse of optimism. He might be at loose ends, but he wouldn't sink anyway. He will continue to search for meaning, for purpose, for connection and, who knows, perhaps he will find his own unique melody in the symphony of life.

There is not a single day here in the village of Maroź. Night followed by constant night is all the townspeople know. Daytime is a myth, a legend at this point. Not a single soul alive has seen, or felt the sun on their face. Cold dreary days are all that we have to look forward too. Until the prophecy of old is fulfilled that is. The elders in our village have passed down this tale for decades. A young man on his 21st birthday will come into his magic and enter the spirit realm where he will stand the test against time. He is to save the Sun Goddess who has been lost to the spirit realm, a prisoner of the dark spectral world. She has been gone for so long, no one believes in her story anymore. The start of the end of this tale, begins now. The rain was beating so hard upon the ceiling, the wood slats couldn't squeeze tight enough for the moisture to not penetrate. The liquid, making its way down the posts, dropped onto Koulders face. Waking him for the tenth time that night. He just wanted to sleep past midnight and get his birthday over with. Ever since his mother passed away he has not had much motivation to enjoy these days. He decides to sit up and think. It was all he was good at anymore. It didn't get him very far nor did it get his mind off hard subjects. Trauma was his way of life, all he knew. All he would ever be. He would have laid back down and drifted off had it not been for a short rap on his door. Filled with a sense of anxiety at a social visit, Koulder made his way to the door. There stood a hooded figure drenched from the nights torrents. Koulder slammed the door shut and locked it. He didn't know who that was and he wasn't prepared to find out. He just wanted to go back to sleep. Another rap much louder then the first sent him throwing the door open and demanding the visitor state his business. The hood came down. There stood a woman of middle age, with long brown locks tied up in a bun. She stated she was cold wet and hungry and asked if Koulder could help her. Unable to turn the poor creature away he invited her in. Once inside the woman was no longer a mere woman. A sorceress, old and evil and of the spirit realm had just entered his domain, knowing very well who Koulder is and the prophecy he doesn't know, that's about to kick in. She attacks Koulder with his back to her, holding him by his neck against a wall. He doesn't know what to think everything happened so quickly. She is too strong to pry off of him and the evil dead stare in her eyes was all too much for him Koulder passed out from the anxiety of the situation. Waking up, Koulder is surrounded by a thick white fog. He is not in the dwelling he knows so well. Feeling full of energy all of a sudden, he gets up to investigate. As he stands he here's a woman scream. Wanting to investigate he heads to where he heard her. Flying ghostly apparitions appear left and right, Koulder is realizing he is in the spirit world that his master had warned him about. Go head to head with a Banshee and she could send you to the spirit world where it's hard to remember who and why you are while she she dines on your body in the waking world. Koulder was lucid enough to remember his masters words. His magic hadn't grown in him yet so he was unprotected in a hostile world. Reaching the area he heard the scream he is blinded by a light so bright he can't even comprehend what it is. Behind the light, the silhouette of a very beautiful and naked woman stood trembling. She sees Koulder and begs him to leave before the Tempest returned. An evil old banshee more powerful than the simple monster he has encountered. Seeing her standing there vulnerable broke something inside him. In just a short time Koulder, who has surely turned 21 by now, was rudely awoken by the angry leaking sky, attacked by a banshee and sent to a creepy land to come across a beautiful naked angel and she is terrified. Too much has happened to make him just turn away. Focusing and breathing, he can feel the power surge inside him. Something is awakening. He won't run. He will get his peace and rest. He will save this woman. Knowing the realm has a portal from past stories, Koulder and the mysterious woman set out to find it. Aware the tempest could catch them at any moments notice. Before the left he set a trap for the old banshee so she wouldn't be able to follow them. The bright woman told a story as old as time itself tho it felt like hours to her. She was kidnapped from her home in the sky. Forced to live in darkness so the banshee could have full domination in the dark. She was the Sun Goddess. Recognizing Koulder was the man to fulfil the prophecy, the bright lady touched his forehead. Power shot out of his head and into the sky above him, illuminating the space between them. He was the lamp to her light. Thru the portal she kills the banshee and together they bring the sun back to a world lost to the dark for way too long.

Being voiceless in the grand narrative of our world's events is a profound challenge, as the relentless march of human dominance continues to overshadow the plight of those without the power to speak up. Throughout the annals of history, humanity's footprint on the Earth has been marked more by acts of destruction than preservation. It commenced with the cataclysmic horrors of nuclear warfare and the devastating impact of atomic bombs, tragedies that elicited vocal outcry from our species, but left the voices of countless other creatures unheard. While we, as human beings, have always found our voices to advocate for our kind, the same cannot be said for the myriad of wildlife species that inhabit our planet. The cries of the monkeys, the roars of the lions, the stealthy prowls of the tigers—these voices have been drowned out by our own, relegated to the sidelines of discourse and action. We may consider ourselves the custodians of the ecosystem, but what of the other tenants who share this planet with us? From the microscopic organisms dwelling in our oceans to the majestic creatures roaming the savannas, we have systematically dismantled and disregarded their habitats, pushing them closer to the brink of extinction with each passing day. As the global dialogue surrounding climate change gains momentum, much of the focus remains fixated on reducing carbon emissions and mitigating environmental degradation. Yet, conspicuously absent from this discourse is a concerted effort to safeguard and enhance the natural habitats of wildlife. How can we claim to be making progress towards achieving the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) when we overlook the fundamental importance of preserving biodiversity and restoring balance to fragile ecosystems? Surveying the current state of our planet's ecosystem, it becomes alarmingly clear that many terrestrial species are teetering on the precipice of oblivion. Without a voice to advocate on their behalf, they rely solely upon our collective stewardship to shield them from the perils posed by human activity. It falls upon us, as guardians of this planet, to rise to the challenge and enact meaningful change to ensure their survival for generations to come. In addressing the systemic threats facing wildlife populations, we must first confront the root causes of their decline. Habitat destruction, driven by urbanization, deforestation, and industrial expansion, stands as one of the foremost threats to biodiversity. By prioritizing the conservation and restoration of natural habitats, we can provide sanctuary for imperiled species and mitigate the irreversible loss of biodiversity. Furthermore, we must reckon with the pervasive impacts of pollution and environmental degradation on wildlife populations. From plastic pollution suffocating marine life to toxic chemicals contaminating terrestrial habitats, human-induced pollution poses a grave threat to the health and well-being of countless species. Through concerted efforts to reduce our ecological footprint and implement sustainable practices, we can safeguard the integrity of ecosystems and mitigate the detrimental effects of pollution on wildlife. Equally imperative is the need to address the interconnectedness of ecosystems and the cascading effects of species loss. The extinction of one species can trigger a domino effect, disrupting delicate ecological balance and imperiling entire ecosystems. By recognizing and preserving the intricate web of life that sustains our planet, we can foster resilience in the face of environmental challenges and safeguard biodiversity for future generations. Moreover, we must acknowledge the inherent value of wildlife beyond their instrumental utility to human society. Each species, no matter how seemingly inconsequential, plays a unique and irreplaceable role in the tapestry of life. From pollinating crops to regulating ecosystems, wildlife provides invaluable ecological services that are essential to the health and functioning of our planet. By embracing a holistic ethic of conservation that respects the intrinsic worth of all living beings, we can forge a more sustainable and harmonious relationship with the natural world. In conclusion, the imperative to protect and preserve wildlife extends far beyond mere moral obligation—it is an essential prerequisite for the survival of our planet and future generations. As stewards of this Earth, we possess both the power and the responsibility to safeguard biodiversity and ensure the continued existence of all living creatures. By amplifying the voices of the voiceless and championing the cause of wildlife conservation, we can forge a path toward a more equitable and sustainable future for all.

Thank you very much for participating in the Biopage Storytelling Writing Contest! The results are now available on the contest webpage: https://www.biopage.com/contest It was a very difficult decision to make! We received many high-quality essays from around the world, it was so difficult to pick the winners. We have “Children of war” from Shobana and “Peace is priceless” from David to reflect the ongoing wars in the world. We have “Where there is will, there is a way” from Shreya, “The warmth of the garden” from Brandon, and “Is it me?” from Emilia to describe their experience with mental disorders. We have “Gifts of December” from Lily about the lighter note of life. And we have “Seed of greatness” from Stephene about hope and growth in poetry! The winners will receive separate emails regarding award certificates and prizes. We are sorry that most of you will be disappointed; but remember you are all winners! Many participants appreciated the contest as an opportunity to stay away from the noisy social media, to really start writing again to express themselves and to tell stories. Please keep in mind that this is a recurrent contest; you are welcome to write another story and submit again! Please continue to stay in the community of Biopage, using the website or more conveniently the iOS app or Android app to continue to write, and to stay in touch with your friends and other writers. If you use the iOS app or Android app, please rate and write a review at the App Store or Google Play. We are giving out an Amazon gift card to each user who wrote a review about Biopage at the App Store. Please email admin@biopage.com with your App Store or Google Play ID name and a screenshot of the review, and the gift card may arrive in 2 weeks. A certificate of participation of the writing contest will be available upon request by email. Thank you and happy writing! The Biopage Writing Contest Committee

When you are the sun, I am the moon. The space is our stage, Our audience is the Earth. Where you are the heroine, And I am the hero. You are the source that illuminates me, Without you, I am nothing more than a normal rock. I may be closer to our audience, But without you, they cannot exist. As we dance around the earth, It gets emotional and cries like a child, creating the oceans. The oceans also have their highs and lows because of us. Sometimes the Earth gets jealous of us, And comes between us, Which makes me angry and makes me turn red. Our audience will see my different phases As I revolve around them and While they revolve around you.

It was the first of October. Some would say its just a new paper to flip through a calendar. Was it? My lips curved before I could stop myself. For the first time, I didn't regret waking up to see another day. *** 5 years ago I picked up a smooth, flat pebble from the edge of the greenish lake and studied its weight in my hand before launching it into the water. The surface broke beneath its impact, sending ripples out in all directions. As I watched, the ripples grew weaker and eventually disappeared. Suddenly, I wanted that pebble back. But I knew even if I got it back, I would still toss my favorite pebble into the lake again, just to see how far it could go compared to the others. As I sighed, I couldn't help but think about how small and insignificant one thing could seem in comparison to everything else in life. "Why are you always so reckless?" my mama would say. I silently laughed over the irony; Mama never used to be independent, but made it look like I was the one who made her lose everything. Did I? I looked down at the distorted blurry reflection of me on the surface of the frozen water. Ah, I wonder what it would feel like to be frozen in time like this lake... I closed my eyes, momentarily reveling in the winter air, yearning for a well-deserved nap. And then, the silence shattered. A distant sobbing reached my ears, cutting through the tranquillity like a blade. Panicked, my eyes snapped open. The source eluded my vision, but the cries continued with —aching bones and…and need for help…. There was blood on my hands. Everywhere. Was it mine? A bird called. Bird sounds? I looked down, there was no blood on my hands. Was I hallucinating again? I am going crazy. The sound of tears falling onto the lake water made me realise this was reality again. The girl was crying at the lake? I hadn't even bothered to check the banks. Then there she was. Her eyes were filled with tears and red and puffy, but oh god. Perhaps she was both the moon, the sun and the stars. Because it seems my eyes were lying to me. A few watery hiccups broke my trance, or disturbing astonishment at her beauty. Should I really approach her..? Will I seem like a prat for ruining her crying session? Will she get angry and throw a rock at me for being nosy? I went behind her quietly and lightly tapped her shoulder. “Hey,” I paused awkwardly. Suddenly I got alarmed as she became still, like a statue that has been caught moving. This is why I should not be in the place of comforting a person, no matter how bad I feel for her. The uncertainty faded as determination settled in. If I risked a rock to the face, so be it. "uh…" I gestured toward her tears, avoiding direct eye contact. "Are you crying?" Never mind. I should get thrown in the lake instead of a rock thrown at my face. She didn't say anything but wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, so I gave her a few minutes. Eventually, she cleared her throat and mumbled, “No, I am sorry. You must have been resting here and I...." She hiccuped. "..definitely ruined your time.” I looked at her in disbelief. She was worried about me being annoyed rather than being mad at me for being nosy? "I'm really sorry," her voice broke on the last word. "Why are you sorry?" The words escaped my lips abruptly. She blinked once, bemused. "For ruining your time." Shaking my head, I dismissed her apology. "You didn't, so stop saying sorry." She was so nice, that I was considering every one of my moments on earth, that it was even justified. "That's good then." A vague response, but given the circumstances, it sufficed. "Did something happen, though? Rant to me if you want. Actually you know, you should. You will find a boy like me once in a hundred years just like a comet, who will want to listen to someone's rant beside a lake like this. " I offered a half-smile and a thumbs-up. It had been 60 seconds, and she just stared at me. At this point, I can hear crows cawing in the background and the sound of water dripping awkwardly. I…didn't say anything wrong did I? “uhm, I meant that I am just really busy that's all…” To my astonishment, she burst out laughing. The sight of her laughing made me laugh too. “You're really…” She gasped between her violent laughs, “funny. Yeah, really funny. Please be my friend, a random boy who comes once in a hundred years.” It was the first of October when I met her.

I always believed it was easier to be a villain than a hero. “Everything is simple, you fight only for yourself, not for others like a hero”. But it was not as simple as I thought. When I was in school many years ago, everyone in my class was “villain”, including me. We all studied to get better grades ourselves. We didn't help each other, we didn't even explain if one of us didn't understand, except one girl. There was the most intelligent girl in our class. She was shy, quiet and a bit mysterious. Everyone used her to raise their grades. They pretended to be her friends. However, they were fake friends like birds which flies when winter comes. One day I also decided to use her. Not to raise my grade, but to lower other classmates' grades through the essays we wrote and gave to the teacher for checking. Teacher believed her and gave this essays her for checking instead. I pretened to help her like others did. At that time, I talked with her alone for the first time. To be honest, she was different than I knew. Cheerful, kind and most importantly, sincere. She talked about her interest in drawing and what kind of pictures she drew. At this time, I wanted to distract her and achieve my goal. I hesitated, though. I felt fear and distemper inside. In order to be evil, one should not be a coward, but on the contrary, one should be brave, cold and strong. But at the same time, it took courage and strength not to be evil. These were different things that were similar to each other. And I became stronger, not to be villain. On my opinion, being the villain in someone's life isn't as cool as we watched movies. When someone becomes evil, he or she does evil to himself or herself first.

On Sunday I got on a bus. It was a day off, everyone was crowding and pushing. The fare costs five pesos, and in front of me a woman was fiddling with a ten-peso coin. Either they couldn't give her change, or she herself wanted to find exactly five pesos, God knows. I told her, "Excuse me, let me give you my five-peso coin, and you pay ten for the two of us." She looked at me with wide eyes, " What do you mean I should pay for the two of us?! Pay for yourself!" I said, "Well, I'll give you five pesos." She frowned, "I don't need anything, I'll only pay for myself. You young people have become completely insolent." Those who heard this twirled their fingers at their temples, someone muttered under his breath about “stupid women”, but in the end everyone sat down, and the lady somehow sorted out the fare herself. The bus was on the way, I was looking out the window and listening to music. Suddenly someone touched me on the shoulder. I turned around - the same ten-peso woman was standing in front of me. I expected anything, but not what she said. “Excuse me, miss. I only now realized what you were suggesting. It was a hard week, I didn't rest at the weekend, so I became dull. Sorry. I wish that hadn't happened.” This is how a funny story about a “stupid woman” ended up as a story about a tired woman who does not forget to take responsibility for her behavior. Mistakes don't matter. What matters is that you deal with their consequences.

Little teacher Station. My all exams finished and I was waiting for bus. At that time sudden, I saw little, so pretty, sympathetic, clean and stylishly dressed a boy. He is about 4 or 5 years old. He used to collect garbage around the sidewalk so take it to special conteniars. I was watching the clever boy during a few time. This Street crowded, in this case lot of people look at the boy and shying for casting own garbage to walkway. They watched the boy a fewer time and blush from own behavior. I also watched the position so thought about doing goodness for enviroment. The goodness absolutely return to our life, even will influence to future. Definitely, being decent isn't depend on to age or format of humans. Those only depend on a person's soul and behavior. I figure out, the boy teach me that lesson, besides stayed at my mind as little teacher.

I wonder when people say that, time is uncontrollable, and they even can not manage the time that they are given, c'mon it's not impossible, i would like to open some secrets of time and try to take you to the world of time! Last year I experienced a lack of time as an student, because i always had a hectic schedule. I worked as a teacher, studied two subjects, did my household chores, and sometimes cooked. When i realised that it's too much for me i decided to take a break. Unfortunately to my utter surprise my break was pointless. It didn't matter how long i took a break: 1 month,2 monthes i always get tired of everything without doing anything. It continuesly lead me to the deepest bottom of depression. No matter what i tried I've always been in the same mood, always tired, and alwas with my so-called friends “eye bags”. I thought that it will end by the time goes, but i didn't even realised how badly i was wrong. Time didn't cure our wounds it didn't find a solution to our problems, you know what it does actually? It just make us to lose our passion for our wounds and problems if we didn't take any action.You can think it's positive, but no it could turn us to the hopeless human. Only dead people have no problems, only them. Remember we are, and you are alive! And you have millions of chances, choices, desires and everything you what. To achieve this you should just clean your mind! So easy right? We should end the war inside us. So this is my story how i managed to control the time. As i said before i was in depression, i don't know how was it, what it was like but i can describe it in one word “hopeless”. Suddenly i relised that nothing is forever! I made up my mind, i indoctrinated that i should move on. My first subject was math. I hated it really. But it helped me to calculate my chance. In one day i had 1440 minutes. I managed it, i controlled it, i manipulated my time. You know, that every single thing depends on our mind. I said that it would take only 1 hour(60 minutes) to do mathematics, and it worked, then allocated 3 hours(180 minutes) for the new theme, it worked! My second subject was English, 2 hours (120 minutes)for homework, and 2 hours(120 minutes) for new theme. I spend 8 hours(480 minutes) to study in a one day. I worked as a second teacher, and it took only 1 hour(60 minutes) of my day. To be precise i woke up at 7 a.m did my 8 hours- longed(480 minutes) study, ended at 3p.m then i had extra 3 hours(180 minutes) for doing other things, from 6p.m till 7 p.m i went to my job, i had 3 hours (180 minutes)to relax, and at 10 p.m i slept. Can you image i did everything! Everything that seemed to be impossible for me, even with this hectic schedule i found extra 6 hours(360 minutes) to do the other non-important things. You can say that you have a busier schedule, but you can control it! Everything has a simple solution. Just made up your mind! Come on you can do it! It's your demons that are telling you to stop! Don't listen them, do the thing that you desire! I used to listen that time is ruthless. No it's not! Time is in your hands, no one can steal it from you, only you are the real owner of it, you can manage it, manipulate it and you can steal it from yourself. So forgive time forgive yourself for no acting, and start doing what you want, just find a single minute for it, to escape a regret! With respect: Dilorom

Screech! The door of the school bus screeched open with hesitation. “Ain't be the time they get rid of this hunk of junk,” the driver muttered under his breath. I wasn't in the mood. With heavy steps, I trudged toward the bright red door of our apartment, which now seemed oh so far, lugging my backpack that now felt like steel. It felt like an eternity before I rested my finger on the doorbell, and I wiggled my feet free from my shoes which are now overly tight and experiencing a huge growth spurt. Ding dong! The footsteps could be heard in the distance, getting louder and louder by the second. “Welcome back, Isabelle! How was school today?” Bad was the only word I could mumble out, and plopped onto my bed lifelessly. “What's wrong sweetie? Want a snack? Noodles perhaps?” I nodded and started sobbing. “Today was horrible. My teacher talked about climate change, a problem happening in our world. It's so sad how animals, plants, and even people are suffering.” I couldn't help it. Tears rolled down my cheeks uncontrollably and stained the white mattress drop by drop. “I want to free all the animals caught from the ocean, I want to stop hunting, I want to stop people from polluting the sky and the sea and on land.” “That's a great goal to work on,” Mom replied, brushing my bangs aside with one hand. She left the room and came back with my favorite dish, carbonara. I remember slurping the noodles, savoring the scrumptious taste, all while sniffling at the thought of climate change --- a bittersweet moment. Mom must have thought I was a weird child. I mean, she would have wondered where I got the genes of being overly sensitive. Not her. Looking back, I was a funky, but passionate, person. Since I was young, I cared a lot about climate change. I cared about the innocent animals and plants that suffer from our problems, and the health of us humans. You'd think, how is a kid going to save a world crisis? And you're right, how would I? It's true, that maybe I won't succeed in solving climate change, but I can make a difference, and so can you. Just because I'm now a twelve-year-old kid in middle school, doesn't mean I don't have a voice to tell the world what I think. Greta Thumberg is someone who I look up to. As of now, she is a strong, 21-year-old woman who is an environmental activist striving against climate change. However, she, too started taking action at the young age of 11 through a growing passion discovered in elementary school. My message is that anybody and everybody can take part in solving global issues, and that's when impossible missions seem possible. I don't know when things will turn around, but I am sure that if we change our actions, work together, and develop healthy habits, we will have a better Earth. The next generations will live in harmony, and our planet will be clean and healthy. In conclusion, we are all capable of making a difference, no matter how small our actions might seem. In the future humans will grow as a whole, serving their duty to act for a better planet. A clean, safe, and stunning planet. No matter how we look, or how we act, we still must strive for a future for generations to come. You and I, we are friends, mates who will accompany us on this thrilling journey.

When I was a child, in Guadeloupe, December 1st marked the beginning of a time of guaranteed pleasures. All I had to do was sit comfortably on the backseat of Mama's car while she was driving through the countryside and my ears would receive a full feast. All over the island—as early as I can remember—people had been organizing Christmas parties (Chanté Nwèl) where they shared seasonal specialties and formed informal choirs to sing the local, traditional carols. Driving with the windows down would allow the wind to share with us the songs it had been carrying on its back, in a succession of fade-ins and fade-outs; building anticipation for the parties we too were to attend during the season. Walking around in any community meant that, as you passed a kitchen window, you would hear the clanking of spoons and ladles on big cast iron pots filled with white yams, stewed pigeon peas or the most flavorful fried pork ragout—with the subtle, rounding touch of a bay rum tree leaf. If you were lucky, you would catch the process of boudin[1] making. If luckier, you would not miss the mixing of spices—women would chop Caribbean chives, parsley, garlic, fresh thyme and chili and fried it all very slowly, until all the aromas were released and danced in the air. I was particularly fond of Christmas decorations, especially the lights. People would hang garlands upon garlands on filaos[2] wherever they could find them. Sometimes, we did wish for snow—It was all over television. Could you really blame us? However, the contrast of winter themed decorations on a lush, green background was always a win. The colorful and vibrant illuminations of December rivaled poetically with the plainly beautiful lights for our Dead, just the month before. It was a time of milder weather, when the aggression of the heat had retreated and allowed the trade winds to hug our skins like fluffy cotton shawls. Sure… all of that was wonderful. But my true source of happiness was to be found on Saturday afternoons when we went deep in the countryside to visit my grandparents. They lived in a small, very traditional, wooden Guadeloupean house surrounded by an entire community of people committed to life in togetherness. “Manman[3], can we go get them now?” Oh, my mother knew what I was referring to. I had not stopped blabbering about it on the entire trip to Nana and Grandpa. Of course, she said yes. Asking was just a formality anyway; it was merely so she would know where to look if we had to go. I would grab my little sister's hand and we would run down the tuft road to first say hello to our great-aunt, Nana's sister. In her home, the radio was always playing biguine[4]. It was quite dark inside as the house was surrounded by fruit trees, which protected it from the hardest bites of the sun. “Hello, Aunt Lena.” A step or two of the biguine to mimic the old people's ways and make my great-aunt laugh and it was time to go. We would then rush back to Nana's house and say hello to Ma' Nò, on the other side of the road. Year-round, she had fat pomegranates hanging from a slim and short tree and she would always give us one to share. “Thank you, Ma' Nò!” Then we would run along the side of her house, pushing the tall grass, jumping over a tiny little stream to find ourselves on a small country road; and just 50 feet down stood heaven in the form of a jujube tree. The sight of the first leaf indicated the start of the hunt for the perfect fruits. I wanted them as soon as they had turned yellow—not completely—a bit of green was particularly desirable. This was the promise of sweetness, juice and just the right amount of tartness. Imagine sinking your teeth… Careful! Not too fast, not too hard. It is quite easy to hurt oneself. The stone in the middle is hard as a rock. Instead, allow your teeth to pierce the crisp skin and to feel the Granny Smith-like crispiness underneath, together with the first drops of sweet juice. Close your eyes—it only intensifies the experience. Bite off a piece of crunchy flesh and enjoy the transition of the texture, from a crackling sweet and sour battle to a mucilaginous puree with the taste of what happens when an apple tree has fallen in love with the tropical sun and founded a family of fun-size fruits of heaven. An occasional really yellow one was a special treasure—a burst of sweetness, less firmness, more chew; even more perfect when it preceded a barely ripe, mostly green one that would make saliva rush to your mouth with its amazing sharpness. Paradise, I say. Pleasure in abundance! If we were lucky, and not trapped in a hungry trance, we would bring a fistful back to the house so that others could partake in the deliciousness, the precious gift of nature that was sirèt[5] season. ----- [1] traditionally a blood sausage [2] horsetail she-oak [3] Mommy [4] 19th century music from Guadeloupe and Martinique [5] jujube

First of all i want to explain my language of love and my view on it.\n\nLove? What is love? How we fall in love? And why we desire our feelings to be mutual. Struggling, shattering and suffering? So why we choose these ways while we can just live and breath. Isn't it enough for us?\n\nPeople choose love but i choose war! Why? Because it's more interesting it's more appealing. We choose war instead of living a peaceful life or just be loved by someone who is in love with us. Why most of the girls love \u201cbad guys\u201d? Isn't it dangerous? Why we choose it and choose a war inside us? You know what, girls always want someone who is stronger, caring, and introverted one who has only one or two friends. We want boys to be obsessed. We want to manipulate, we want obsession, we want psychic love. Is it so difficult? This is war, war between eyes between hearts. Jealousy is the most sweetest feeling and the most fatal feeling at the same time. It was the main cause for the most of the couples. In relationship boys must be a dominant, and they must experience a posessive jealous. It makes girls happier and help and them to understand that they are important and an only one for them.\n\nThis is ok, but how can we deal with the words of Pushkin \253\u043c\u044b \u043b\u044e\u0431\u0438\u043c \u0442\u0435\u0445 \u043a\u0442\u043e \u043d\u0430\u0441 \u043d\u0435 \u043b\u044e\u0431\u0438\u0442 \u043c\u044b \u0433\u0443\u0431\u0438\u043c \u0442\u0435\u0445 \u043a\u0442\u043e \u0432 \u043d\u0430\u0441 \u0432\u043b\u044e\u0431\u043b\u0435\u043d\273 which means \u201c we love people who don't love us, we destroy people who are in love with us\u201d . Is this a rule of love? Why always it is the same? Why we can just fall in love who is already in love with us? Why we want an admit of someone who can' t see our beauty our secrets and our demons?

The universe, an enigmatic expanse of cosmic wonders, has captivated human curiosity for centuries. As we gaze into the night sky, we are confronted with a tapestry of stars, galaxies, and celestial phenomena that defy comprehension. Among these cosmic wonders, black holes stand out as some of the most intriguing and mysterious entities in the cosmos. In this exploration, we embark on a journey through the vastness of the universe, delving into the mysteries of black holes and their profound impact on our understanding of space, time, and the nature of reality. The Cosmic Canvas: Universe's Splendid Tapestry The Celestial Ballet of Stars The universe, with its grandeur and complexity, is a canvas painted with the celestial ballet of stars. Billions of galaxies, each composed of billions of stars, adorn the cosmic tapestry. Their brilliance illuminates the cosmic darkness, creating a spectacle that has inspired poets, philosophers, and scientists throughout the ages. The dynamics of these galaxies, governed by the fundamental forces of the cosmos, orchestrate the symphony of the universe. Nebulae: Cosmic Nurseries In the vastness of space, nebulae emerge as cosmic nurseries where stars are born. These colossal clouds of gas and dust serve as the incubators of stellar life, where gravitational forces sculpt and mold the raw materials into luminous spheres that will burn for millions or even billions of years. Nebulae showcase the cosmic creativity at play, shaping the evolution of galaxies and influencing the destiny of the universe itself. Cosmic Expansion: The Unfolding Drama The universe is not static; it is a dynamic entity in a perpetual state of expansion. The concept of cosmic expansion, initially proposed by Edwin Hubble, revolutionized our understanding of the universe's evolution. As galaxies drift apart, the fabric of space-time stretches, revealing a narrative of cosmic proportions. This expansion is not only a testament to the universe's past but also a harbinger of its future, raising questions about the ultimate fate of our cosmic home. Black Holes: The Cosmic Enigmas The Gravitational Abyss Amidst the celestial splendors, black holes lurk as cosmic enigmas, challenging our fundamental understanding of space and time. These gravitational behemoths, born from the cataclysmic deaths of massive stars, possess an irresistible force that defies escape—the event horizon. Once an object crosses this boundary, it succumbs to the relentless pull of gravity, disappearing into the cosmic abyss. Singularity: The Heart of Darkness At the core of a black hole lies the singularity—a point of infinite density where the laws of physics break down. The singularity is shrouded in mystery, representing a realm where our current understanding of the universe reaches its limits. Concepts such as space and time lose their conventional meaning, giving rise to a cosmic conundrum that beckons scientists to unravel the secrets hidden within. Hawking Radiation: Quantum Whispers Stephen Hawking's groundbreaking work introduced the concept of Hawking radiation, challenging the traditional idea that black holes are insatiable devourers of matter and energy. This quantum phenomenon suggests that, contrary to their ominous reputation, black holes can emit radiation and gradually lose mass over time. Hawking radiation adds a layer of complexity to the black hole narrative, blending the classical and quantum realms in a cosmic dance of paradoxes. Bridging the Cosmic Scales Relativity: Einstein's Cosmic Symphony Albert Einstein's theory of relativity laid the foundation for our modern understanding of gravity and space-time. General relativity, in particular, provides a framework to comprehend the gravitational forces shaping the universe. The interplay between matter and space-time curvature elucidates the cosmic choreography, allowing us to decipher the intricate movements of celestial bodies and the subtle bending of light as it traverses the cosmic expanse. In our cosmic odyssey through the universe and the profound mysteries of black holes, we find ourselves at the crossroads of awe and understanding. The celestial tapestry, woven with the brilliance of stars, the grandeur of galaxies, and the enigma of black holes, beckons us to contemplate the intricate dance of cosmic forces that shape the cosmos.

When I was in the tenth grade, I decided to take five extra classes on top of my school classes, totaling to a whopping nine classes in one semester, as opposed to the usual four. I was drowning. I was caught in a torrent of assignments and essays and tests and quizzes, and I was drowning. Nobody seemed to notice my slow descent into exhaustion. I kept going, and going, and going, because there was nothing else I could do. When I was in the tenth grade, I decided to join the fall play. Most of my friends were in theatre. My best friend was in theatre. I probably wouldn't like it, but it wouldn't hurt to give it a try. I was right. I didn't like it. I loved it. I stepped on that stage, and suddenly I could breathe. I had broken out of the water, there was a glorious burn of oxygen in my lungs, and I could breathe. I wasn't me. I wasn't an overburdened, exhausted, burn-out of a kid. I was just another character. It was freeing. I loved it. I had such a small role, but nothing could ever compare to the exhilarating feeling of being on stage. Of being up there, being someone other than myself, someone who could just discard their problems like a heavy jacket. I was no longer drowning. I was treading water. Someone had given me their hand and pulled me out of that frigid riptide. I was no longer drowning. I took comfort in the fact that it wasn't me, on that stage. It was a butcher, or a driver, or a dancer, or whatever I needed to be in that moment. And I took comfort in the fact that no matter how the audience hated me, it wasn't me that they hated. It was hard work, and for all intents and purposes I should have been even more tired. But every time I stepped on that stage, I was invigorated. It was like a shelter in a downpour. In all honesty, theatre saved me. I found it easier to complete the rest of my assignments. I didn't find day-to-day life to be such a chore. I was freer, and happier, than I had been in a long, long time. The minute I stepped on that stage, and the water cleared out of my lungs, I knew this was what I was going to be doing for the rest of my life.