에볼루션；엠퍼러 스피드 바카라；온라인바카라

정보창고；바카라사이트,카지노사이트,온라인카지노사이트

Revine Lee — Sun, 20 Oct 2024 13:52:52 GMT

The Now — A Sequel on Living Short: A Story of Survival

바카라사이트；카지노사이트,온라인카지노사이트

Maria — Sun, 20 Oct 2024 06:36:01 GMT

A Short Story

Dear readers, this is quite a long post, I hope you enjoy reading the short story though! Please let me know what you think in the end. Thank you and enjoy!

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The boy carried the bucket and went in the direction of the ladder leading to the upper deck.His duty was to bring water from upstairs to his people living on the lower level. He hated the job, but all the others were just as troublesome, some even worse.He climbed up slowly so as not to disturb the passengers above, and when he finally reached the top, he saw a teenager dressed in fancy clothing watching something on his phone.The boy sighed, he had hoped that by coming early, the place would be empty. He figured he could never really escape the people up here, though.The snobby teenager noticed the boy, his gaze making the boy uncomfortable.Masking his unease, the boy continued tying the rope to his bucket, as always.He looked over the edge, momentarily suspended by the beauty of the ocean below. He wished they could see this view from downstairs.

The passengers on the upper deck were indeed lucky, they had quick access to water and a magnificent view.

He soaked in the sight, before snapping back to reality and dropping the bucket in the ocean to get water.As he pulled up the bucket, he felt piercing stares at his back.Turning slightly, he saw that not just the teenager was out now, but a group of his friends and an old lady were as well; and they were all looking him up and down, with two whispering to each other.He clenched his jaw and continued about his work.Bringing water is his job, and unless he finds another way to get water, getting it from the upper deck will have to be it, whether the people there like it or not.The passengers on the ship were told when they boarded it that the residents of the lower deck should get water through the upper one, and the passengers upstairs should welcome the ones from down.The outer part of the upper deck didn’t belong to the people living on top, yet they always acted like it did.They made it seem like they were doing the people on the lower level a favor and that the people downstairs were a burden.The boy receives hate and disgusted stares every time he goes to bring water, this is why getting water has been always this boy’s most hated task of the day.He filled both buckets of water and went downstairs, still feeling the teenager and his friend’s stares.

A few days later

The boy climbed up the upper deck again like usual to get water.This time, however, he was met with a wooden barrier.He pushed at the wooden barrier, just as he had before, but it remained firmly in place. He tried again. Then again, and again.But there were no results.He leaned his head on it and tried to calm his heavy breathing, then started to make his way back down; but not before he heard laughter and a scoff from above.

They were laughing. Laughing at him.

His cheeks heated up from embarrassment and he went down faster.In his family’s room later that day, he sat staring at the table unable to forget that morning's incident. The scene kept playing in his head, how funny he must’ve been to the residents of the upper deck — to the teenagers and their friends.He had no choice but to try again, despite his dread. So for the next few days, he tried going up, but he always came back with empty buckets.

Image from

The saved water was now scarce and his people were questioning why the tanks weren’t filled back yet.The boy couldn’t face them and tell them about his failed attempts to get water. He didn’t want to inform them about the barrier.He went up to try one more time, but again, it was useless.The people started picking up on the boy's unease when they talked about the lack of water. So he didn’t need to tell them that he couldn’t get water because the people on the upper floor restricted the entrance, they all figured that was the case.This, just like he feared, created tension between his people. Everyone was on the edge not just because of the lack of water but also because they were reminded of their inferior state.

Image from t

When he was walking around the ship, one day, he noticed his father’s keys.These keys were the ones his father always carried as their leader. These keys would give him access to almost everywhere on their floor.The boy looked at them and an idea sparked.Looking at the keys, he paused before taking them, heart pounding, unsure if this was truly the right choice.His hesitation dissolved when he thought of the alternative choice and the state his people were in.He took the keys with a newly found excitement and rushed away with a brilliant idea in mind.He took the buckets and went to a closed storage room where he used the keys to enter and got to work.After a while, the boy left the cabinet with four full buckets of water.People were ecstatic at the sight and hurried to take the water from him, not stopping to think how he managed to provide it.His father, however, looked at him questioningly; silently prompting him to explain how he was able to get it.The father knew that the inhabitants of the upper floor wouldn’t have possibly allowed them to get water without a ‘‘meeting’’.He would know because he was the one who handled these negotiations.He was tired of them since they often resulted in his humiliation and fueled his sense of inferiority; so he feigned ignorance and pretended to think the boy got the water from upstairs — even though he knew the boy didn’t.He didn’t want to investigate, he was glad they were able to get water without having to bow down to the people above.Days and days passed by, and the boy and his people had enough water thanks to the boy’s new method.Everyone was happy and in peace, they got their water and the boy didn’t have to be the victim of the higher floor’s glares of contempt and hate.

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One day, the father noticed something strange about the ship.He felt like something was off about the floor’s balance.He didn’t think much of it, though, he dismissed it as a mere symptom of his old age.Later that day, the father heard a commotion coming from upstairs; he wondered if it was finally time these people experienced an issue in life.With a tired body, he went to rest.His break didn’t take much before it was disturbed by the loud footsteps.

thud thud thud thud

The footsteps grew louder, angrier, and angrier by the second.The father left his room in a hurry, unable to locate the source of the angry steps.As soon as he stepped outside, he saw his people surrounding a group of other passengers like they were an exclusive meat they were eager to eat.“What’s wrong?!” The father shouted, causing his people to move to the side so he could see the cause of the commotion.The father must admit it, the sight was strange. In the middle stood a large group of passengers from the upper deck, this was peculiar since they rarely visit.Upon seeing him, a lady dressed in an elegant fur coat screamed, “YOU!”The old man raised an eyebrow.“WHAT DID YOU DO TO THE SHIP?!?!” She shouted in a panicked voice.The father was taken aback, what was wrong with the ship?“I… it’s…AAHHHHHHHH” the lady shrieked.

BAM!

Something broke, and then all chaos began.

TUCK!!!

The father fell to the side. His head hit the floor.His vision became blurry. His head pounded.Then he saw black.

Photo by on

When he regained consciousness, he heard screams everywhere. Men shouted. Mothers wailed, and children cried.The cabinets had emptied their contents, all the belongings were scattered everywhere.Water surged in.The people from the upper deck alongside the father’s people were all trying to latch on to anything to save themselves.

The ship was sinking.

The ship was sinking and everyone was dying.

Everyone.

What happened? How can this happen to a sturdy ship like theirs?

The father ran opposite the sinking side, trying to reach his son who was latching onto the highest part of the ship.“Son!”As soon as the boy's attention was directed at the father, the father saw the guilt on his son’s face.“What happened to the ship, how did you provide us with water?” The father asked solemnly, trying to hold onto the ship with all his might.“I.. I’m sorry,” the boy replied.The father sighed but knew nothing could be done now.The ship was sinking, and they were dying. It was their reality.“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. We would’ve died from thirst! They didn’t give us access to water! I didn’t have any choice! All I did was make a small hole…we were able to have unlimited access to water…I was being cautious…”The boy's nervous confession was cut off when a body from the upper floor fell on him causing them both to fall in the ocean.The boy looked to the side, the body belonged to the teenager he would see when he went up to get water.

So this was their ending now…

The boy closed his eyes and felt the splashes of more bodies falling into the ocean like bombs being dropped.

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It didn’t take the ship an hour to completely sink, drowning everybody on it.In the end, the passengers on the upper deck and the lower one met the same fate.All because of the rich’s selfishness and arrogance and the poor’s foolishness.

The Prophet, peace be upon him, said,

“The parable of those who respect the limits of Allah and those who violate them is that of people who board a ship after casting lots, some of them residing in its upper deck and others in its lower deck. When those in the lower deck want water, they pass by the upper deck and say: If we tear a hole in the bottom of the ship, we will not harm those above us. If those in the upper deck let them do what they want, they will all be destroyed together. If they restrain them, they will all be saved together.”

Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments!

Into the Abyss: The Price of Thirst And Power was originally published in Story Saturday on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

프리미어리그 Archives；【토토사이트】스포츠토토

Mahrukh Fatima — Sat, 19 Oct 2024 15:22:56 GMT

Why do you never stop mumbling and babbling

Continue reading on Story Saturday »

바카라게임 ；바카라사이트；카지노사이트킴

Mil Hoornaert — Sat, 19 Oct 2024 13:59:47 GMT

A spooky story

Continue reading on Story Saturday »

카지노게임 카지노사이트, 바카라사이트；카지노사이트킴

A Slice Of Me — Sun, 13 Oct 2024 19:42:37 GMT

Story of how fear and love are connected

The opposite of love is not hatred, but the fear that love may never accept us.

Photo from

I dreamed of riding a horse through a big city. I was riding so fast when he suddenly appeared on the way. From distance, his face was unclear, but I knew it was him. I recognised him by his long, messy, curly blonde hair and ginger beard.

I quickly turned away. I didn’t know why I was running away from him; I felt a force inside me that was pushing me to escape. The horse went further and further away until I couldn’t see him anymore, though I could still feel his look on me.

Without looking back I kept running. Then, there he was, standing in front of me, blocking my way. I was so afraid.

I suddenly woke up from the dream. My heart was racing rapidly.

I got dressed, and left the house. The weather was warm, and a nice breeze touched my face. I went to my favorite café and ordered a cappuccino. This was the café where I had first met Jack. It was small but cozy, with staff who always smiled. The lights were dim, creating a special atmosphere. The tables were old, and there were some sofas and chairs. One of the couches had a broken leg and was propped up with books instead of being fixed. Near the entrance, a few tables and chairs were set up on the sidewalk.For our first date, we sat at one of the outdoor tables. Jack went to the counter and bought drinks for both of us. Even though it was a typical move, it made me feel good. We played backgammon together, the deal was whoever loses would buy the next drink. I lost.Jack was a 26-year-old guy with messy, curly blonde hair and ginger beard. His room was always messy. His desk was filled with empty beer and wine bottles lined up in a row. His bed was always unmade from the night before. He had trouble sleeping at night, so he developed various rules to help him sleep. The room curtains had to be fully closed, and the room shouldn’t be too warm or too cold. The window had to be open, but not too wide to let in noise.He needed a heavy blanket, with two pillows under his head and one between his knees. He always wore a sleep mask and listened to podcasts with earphones until he fell asleep. Even with all these changes, it took him hours to fall asleep. That’s why he often slept in, and he often said, “I couldn’t sleep well for several nights.” This was usually followed by his story about having ADD, explaining why he had sleepless nights.Contrary to what he said, Jack’s ongoing lack of sleep and endless sadness revealed a deep hatred and anger toward himself. He hated himself deeply. He didn’t want to deal with these feelings. If he acknowledged these thoughts, there was only one way out for him: suicide. So, he kept his mind busy with distractions. Ignoring what bothered him was a skill he had. He did this through many parties and gatherings he attended, along with alcohol, drugs, and sleeping with multiple girls. He claimed this all started when his heart was broken in the past when his longtime girlfriend had left him for someone else.In one corner of Jack’s room, there was a half-open suitcase spilling its contents onto the floor. It symbolized everything he left unfinished instead of resolving his issues; he constantly escaped from himself and his problems. And all these thoughts that made it hard for him to sleep.In addition to these aspects of his life, Jack was a wanderer who had traveled to so many countries. He loved adventure and had a great talent for cooking. One could imagine him in a parallel universe as a successful chef running his own restaurant. His taste in music was fantastic; he could play both guitar and piano very well. Music ran in his family, with nearly everyone passionate about it and mastering at least one instrument.Jack was intelligent but often procrastinated on his schoolwork until the last minute. This pattern continued throughout his school and university years; he would wait until the end and then work hard for a few weeks. A few days before university projects or exams, he would take ADD medication and work tirelessly in the library, ultimately getting good grades.Jack had good general knowledge about most of the things; he knew a lot about biology, geography, science, and technology. Besides his native language, he spoke German and Spanish fluently. He loved reading and enjoyed doing crosswords in his free time. In school, he wasn’t popular. For many years, he wasn’t very fun wanted to be a top student and he had trouble making friends. His parents became worried about this and decided to move him from a private school to a public one, hoping he would improve. Apparently, in the public school he gradually changed and made more friends, but his shift from focusing on academics to socializing had its consequences. His work ethic suffered, and studying became difficult for him.Jack had only one sister who was very different from him. She lived in London with her German boyfriend. Unlike Jack, his sister was organized, precise, and successful. She was more like their father than their mother. This might explain why Jack didn’t have a good relationship with his dad. His father couldn’t understand Jack’s world. Their minds worked on completely different levels. They were never truly connected. For his father, life followed a natural path; school, university, work, and starting a family. Jack had a special talent for disappointing him in each of those areas.His mother, on the other hand, was different. She always supported Jack, and they had a good relationship. She was fighting cancer, and Jack always thought about her. Even in moments when it wasn’t obvious to others — like when he stood at the club’s corner lighting a cigarette — his mind was busy with the deep fear of losing his mom, a fear that never faded.Jack would sleep for long hours at night or suffer from restless insomnia. He spent a small part of his day studying at university, while the rest was dedicated to socializing with friends. On weekends, he often went to clubs and came home the next morning drunk and exhausted. This cycle repeated over and over.Maybe the heavy drinking and drug use had changed his appearance; at twenty-six, he looked like he was in his mid-thirties. Months passed in this routine, and he lost a lot of money. His family, especially his parents, became worried about his life in another country. Using the excuse of visiting his sister’s boyfriend’s family, they traveled to Germany to check on him and understand his situation.They were sitting around a large table in the same café where we had our first date. I walked in, looking for an empty table. As I scanned the room, I spotted Jack. I immediately headed toward the exit and quickly left the café. I didn’t know why I was running away from him; it felt like some force was pushing me to escape. My heart was racing so fast, and my breath became short. I sat on the sidewalk and cried uncontrollably. I wanted to go back and kill him. Anger and sadness filled my entire being. Instead of returning to the café, I wandered aimlessly through the nearby streets, and cried loudly.He used to tell me I stood out from the other girls he had met. That I was brave and confident, and I had some kind of fearlessness inside me. He said that I was strong and he loved that about me. He hated himself so badly, but he hoped to win my heart.

Photo from

Part of him truly wanted to be in love and stay in love. And when I noticed that side of him, I slowly fell for him. He was ready for love and had told me that several times. Little did I know that, sometimes following the same pattern he had for years, he was sleeping with other women from time to time. He didn’t tell me anything about this because he was so afraid of losing me. Still, he felt bad about himself. He was caught between who he was and who he wanted to be.I always value people’s feelings and empathize with them. However, I often end up with people who weren’t good for me. My first romantic experience was with a boyfriend who loved me so deeply. He showed his feelings through many gestures, eight months of patience and effort to convince for a first date, filled with bouquets, gifts, poems, and love letters. I finally agreed to enter my first relationship. This relationship lasted three years, during which we both invested a lot of time and emotion. Unfortunately, things took a dark turn and became emotionally abusive. His persistent love turned into stalking, and his romantic gestures became manipulative tactics.This bitter ending left me deeply disappointed in love. In the years after the breakup, I found myself in a series of dates or better say short-term relationships, trying to balance my two main fears: the fear of loneliness and the fear of getting hurt. However, the constant flow of people coming in and out of my life wore me down, leaving me completely drained.I felt completely drained when I met Jack. I hoped to find someone who could rescue me from loneliness and bring hope back into my life. I wanted to build a mutual relationship and believed that by being honest and expressing myself, I could create a strong foundation for that.Our love wasn’t dramatic. There were no bouquets of flowers, gifts, or endless daily conversations. Our romantic moments didn’t resemble the any love scene in movies or books. Each time we met, our hearts didn’t beat faster.I liked that everything was going slow and steady. It helped me to be less afraid of getting close to him. Neither of us was overly passionate about the other. Being together and enjoying each other’s company was a conscious decision that we both made. In the first few months, whenever we had an issue, we talked it out, and everything was easily resolved.On that specific day, I was wearing a brown shirt with a skirt that reached down to my ankles. My long black socks extended up to my thighs. I took off my skirt and hung it on a wooden hanger beside the door. The walls of the room were tall and painted white. I sat on the chair. It was white or some kind of cream color and it felt cold. I spread my legs apart and placed them on both sides of the chair. It was so uncomfortable. I placed my head on the chair and looked above. The ceiling was white with an ugly lamp in the middle. I was stressed.The doctor approached and asked me to move closer to the edge of the chair. I moved and the chair made a disturbing noise. It didn’t feel good. With a quick look, the doctor said things weren’t fine. My eyes were still at the ugly white ceiling. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my legs, making my body shake involuntarily. My waist twisted and I pulled my back into the chair instinctively. There was an intense pain in my body.The doctor was taking a sample and said, “It will be over soon, be bit more patient.”I continued to look at the ceiling; it was white and ugly. It didn’t take long, perhaps not even a minute, but it felt way much longer. My heart pounded fast and anxiously. Finally everything was over, but I was still in pain. My eyes fell on the doctor’s sampling stick, it was covered with blood.I was bleeding. The doctor handed me a few sanitary pads. I got up and got dressed. The doctor mentioned the names of several diseases and began writing prescriptions.“More tests need to be done to make sure of your condition.”The doctor’s lips were moving but I couldn’t anything. I only nodded my head as a sign of acknowledgment.“The medications I’ve prescribed are a bit strong. If you have stomach issues, you might experience discomfort, but you have to take it.” The doctor said.I tried to keep my emotions hidden, but I was angry. The doctor offered some words of comfort, “Healing takes time. Make sure to ask your partner to get tested.”I didn’t know which one hurts more; that I was ill or that was betrayed. The pain was intense, and the bleeding didn’t stopped. My legs were weak, and I couldn’t get up. I wanted to cry, but it wasn’t the time. “I’ll also write you a prescription for a vaginal ultrasound. Don’t forget.” Doctor said.“How can I go for a a vaginal ultrasound now that I’m in pain? It will probably be much more painful than this.” I responded.“There’s no other way; I’m sorry,” the doctor replied with a particular coldness.I headed towards the exit. I felt like my body was paying the price for Jack’s betrayals. Paying the price for his wrong choices, for sleeping around and lying to me. Just a few hours ago, I only had my , and now, in addition to that pain, I was ill as well.Our relationship met its inevitable end, much like all the other girls Jack had been with or all the boys who had disappointed me. However, Jack still thinks about me, but he doesn’t want to see me. Not because he’s afraid of me, but because facing me means confronting a part of himself that he wants to avoid. It means being reminded of everything he dislikes about himself. A reminder of the voice inside of him that says: “ You are a failure.” He is the same person as before; he continues sleeping with different girls, drinking, smoking, going to late-night parties, and taking drugs. But now, self-loathing festers deeper within him.My medications are finished, and I’m healthy now. However, Jack’s memory is still painful. I don’t want to see him. Part of me hates him so much, while another part wants to escape from him. Not because I’m afraid of him, but because facing him means, in fact, confronting a wounded part of me; a reminder of all the pain and sorrow. I am the same person as before; I am afraid of relationships and I don’t want to be lonely either. But now, my fears are intensified. Now, more than ever, I am afraid of people and love. My fears have found confirmation-a resounding echo that says love don’t love me.

If you want to read more about people I met, check out

Author’s Note:I wrote this story a while ago when I was in feeling so hurt after my heartbreak. Maybe the best thing about life is that nothing remains the same. All that pain is gone at the moment but what I learned is that we need to be so careful about what we choose to experience cause some experiences can just bring us so much misery and pain, even when you have the intention of experiencing something amazing which can be love.

Love Don’t Love Me was originally published in Story Saturday on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

카지노 게임 사이트；온라인 카지노 사이트；카지노 추천 사이트

Chandrayan Gupta — Sat, 12 Oct 2024 17:28:11 GMT

In a nation where most seem to have accepted there is a God, kindred agnostic spirits are hard to find

Continue reading on Story Saturday »

온라인 카지노 사이트 먹튀검증 토토 사이트 온카검증；온카패스

A Slice Of Me — Sat, 12 Oct 2024 16:01:43 GMT

Memories that never fade

Memories of the people I loved, tied to the sweater I once wore.

How many people do you hear talking about an ordinary activity as a source of joy in their life?

Germany 2024

We first met at a big second-hand market. By “we,” I mean me and my soft blue sweater. We were not supposed to meet because I had no intention of shopping. It all happened after lunch with Gigi in Berlin and an impulsive decision to visit the local second-hand market in front of the restaurant.Gigi was a girl I met randomly at a student party. She was standing in the yard, rolling herself a cigarette when I got closer and asked, “Hey, can I have one?” She gave me that one and started rolling another. I still vividly remember her black curly hair and glasses that were similar to Harry Potter’s. She seemed easy and open to approach. We chit-chatted a little bit and exchanged numbers to meet up later.About a month passed when we met again. It was a casual talk in a student cafe. I ordered some hot tea and she got a big bowl of lentil soup. Usually when you meet a new person the initial conversations center around your background, job, interests, relationships, and things like that. Basically information that you need to make a folder for that person in your mind. Usually, you feel connected when you find similarities and things in common, like if you both enjoy the same sport or share a passion. I guess that’s how it works for most people. But for me, it’s a bit different. I click with someone through unusual questions and weird replies. I’m talking about good weirdness, little oddness that adds a unique flavor to life, like the bit of salt you sprinkle on your food. I’m not talking about creepy weirdness that makes you want to stay away from someone, but rather the extraordinary people that who aren’t afraid to stand out from the majority and can enrich your life.This moment happened with Gigi when I asked her what she enjoys doing in life. “I really enjoy cutting salad,” she said with a smile and a glimpse of excitement in her eyes. For me, that was the moment of connection. I knew there was something special about her. How many people do you hear talking about such a simple and ordinary activity as a joy in their life? Usually, everyone tries to impress others with extraordinary responses. That’s what I liked about her, she was down to earth and genuine in her answer. There’s nothing more attractive than that in a person you’re talking to.The third time we met was at the restaurant right in front of the second-hand market. It was me, Gigi, Mary — who was visiting me at the time — and Gigi’s flatmate, Lucy. The restaurant was quite popular for its Asian cuisine, and we decided to order a variety of appetizers to share. While we waited for the food, Gigi took her BeReal. I was smiling as I sat next to Mary; we were both wearing turtleneck sweaters — mine was cream, and hers was white. In fact, both sweaters belonged to me; I just lent her one for this special lunch. Gigi and Lucy seemed very close, just as Mary and I were.Gigi took out a bag of tobacco and cigarette filters from her bag and started to roll. Now that I look back, this image of her holding a cigarette filter between her lips while handling the rolling paper and adding tobacco is definitely one of the most vivid images I have of her. After she prepared two cigarettes — one for herself and one for her flatmate — we left the restaurant. In front of the restaurant, there was a large market in the small plaza. The wind was a bit chilly, but people were still standing behind tiny tables, selling their clothes and used items.We had walked around about half of the plaza when I saw the sweater for the first time — a soft, dark blue sweater with a unique texture. It stood out and was impossible to ignore. I went closer and asked for the price. It wasn’t expensive, only 7 euros. But I didn’t need a sweater. I didn’t need to shop. I hadn’t even planned to be at that market. Yet something told me I should buy that soft, warm blue sweater with its unique texture. I couldn’t resist it. Gigi and Lucy were standing a bit farther away, smoking. I asked Mary what I should do. She told me to try it on. I wore it over my turtleneck sweater. Even though my skin wasn’t touching it, it felt so soft.Now I wanted it even more. I was hesitant, mainly because of money. I was broke at the time — so broke that any kind of unplanned spending or impulsive shopping would affect me. But this was different. I knew I wasn’t one of those people who can’t resist shopping. I don’t usually get carried away by a beautiful sweater. Shopping isn’t a frequent activity for me, and my purchases are usually planned and intentional. So, this connection with a second-hand sweater was rare. It really was. I took out the cash, paid 7 euros, and the softest dark blue sweater was mine.

Berlin, Germany 2024

That day was different. On the way back, Mary and I bought so many health care items-face masks, nail polish, and hair dye. We spent the entire day on self-care, dyeing each other’s hair. Nothing worked for my hair; it’s pure black, and it’s so difficult to color without bleaching. But Mary’s hair looked really nice. It was my first time seeing how easy it is to dye hair when you have a blonde base. The next day, I met up with some of my other friends, and I was wearing my beautiful new sweater for the first time. It felt wonderfully soft and beautiful.Little by little, I began to like my sweater even more than before. I lent it to my best friend to wear while she was staying in Berlin. It was exactly one year after I had bought it.I took the sweater with me to my new apartment, to work, to parties I was invited to, to different places I traveled to like Rome or Stockholm and even overseas to Iran. I took a selfie with it while hanging out with co-workers in a tiny village near Berlin. We all looked so happy in that photo. I was standing next to a friend from work who is now graduated and has left Berlin for the US.I wore that sweater the first time I met the love of my life. It wasn’t love at first sight. There was actually no love at all the first time we met. I met him because of Gigi. They were a couple at that time. Before meeting them that day, I had a date with myself in Berlin. I wore my soft blue sweater and went to galleries and many museums in Berlin. And in the evening I met Gigi and her boyfriend. If someone had told me that evening I would meet a person I would fall in love with a year later, I wouldn’t have believed it. Gigi and her boyfriend ended their relationship a few months after we met. Still, if someone had said I would fall for Gigi’s ex, I wouldn’t have believed that either.Life has a funny way of surprising us. I never thought I would buy that soft blue sweater when I was so broke. I certainly didn’t expect that sweater to be present in many of my important memories. I wouldn’t have imagined wearing it and meeting a friend’s partner — a friend who used to be a random person at a party from whom I asked for a cigarette. And I never would have believed I would fall in love with her ex.

Potsdam, Germany 2024

The night I kissed him, I was wearing that sweater. I didn’t know we were going to kiss; it was just a coincidence that I happened to be in my dark blue sweater. By that night, it had been eight months since Gigi left Berlin. I don’t think she will ever come back, at least not to live here. We were still friends, and we still are. But now I’m the friend who is in love with her ex, so she holds a certain distance from me.Last week, I lost the sweater on the bus. I had gone on a picnic with Gigi’s ex, and on the way back, I accidentally left it behind. I was holding both sweaters — mine and his — and somehow forgot mine on the bus. I realized it only after we got off, just as the bus left. In that moment, it felt like I had lost not just a piece of clothing, but all the memories I had created with my friends and loved ones. The sweater had vanished, along with Gigi, a friend from work who moved to the US, and all the memories of wearing my sweater with Mary, or seeing my best friend in it. All those moments were gone now.My beloved blue sweater, which had brought me closer to so many people from different parts of the world and joined me on countless adventures, is now gone. It feels strange to think about all the moments we shared. So if you ever find a warm, soft blue sweater in a second-hand market, don’t hesitate to buy it; it might change your life.

Originally published at on August 8, 2024.

Worn with Memories was originally published in Story Saturday on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

카지노사이트를 말할 때 20개의 통찰력있는 인용구；바카라사이트,카지노사이트,온라인카지노사이트

Erika Johnson — Sat, 12 Oct 2024 15:51:46 GMT

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There was a story I held onto for twenty years despite knowing it might benefit others to read it. I finally found the courage to publish it on the anniversary death of a friend.

It was my first-time submitting work to Medium. I clicked publish feeling empowered then posted the link on social media, and shared with friends.However, in the time it took for me to walk to the copy center at work, about twenty yards away, doubt started creeping into the corners of my mind.Was that too vulnerable? I questioned now that my words were very much out there.The ironic part- the message of my story is as long as we speak from a place of care and compassion, it’s best to say exactly what’s in our hearts while we have the chance.‘Maybe no one had seen it’, I reasoned. I reached for my phone in my back pocket only to realize I left it in my office.I bee lined back to my office irrationally wondering if I could somehow undo all the sharing I had done. Nearly knocking my water bottle over I flipped my phone over to see messages lighting up my home screen.It was too late. People had already read it. Or maybe it was…perfect. I had finally taken my own advice.To my relief I received a lot of positive feedback on my piece. People related to it. It helped them. I felt proud of myself. As a bonus I was offered a coveted spot in a writer’s series.“Our collective stories and experiences can be the greatest textbooks of life. But with every shameful story stuffed away, we bypass the chance to expand and connect- a missed opportunity slipped through our fingers.” — Kristen NoelOf course, there an element of risk when we put ourselves out there. There is a misconception that being vulnerable will automatically lead to being hurt or rejected.Without risk there is no reward. Being open allows others to see us for who we are. The beautiful consequence of being the most authentic version of ourselves is that invites the types of meaningful connections with others we desire most in life.

The Beautiful Consequence of Being Vulnerable was originally published in Story Saturday on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

베팅의신 안전한 카지노사이트 보증업체 먹튀검증；토토먹튀블러드

Mil Hoornaert — Sat, 05 Oct 2024 12:39:54 GMT

My journey, and how you replicate it

Continue reading on Story Saturday »

슈퍼벳 【보증업체】 가입코드 이벤트 쿠폰

Diepiriye Rita — Sat, 05 Oct 2024 09:31:00 GMT

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My spouse and I were recently reading a popular news article online, and by the time we finished, we couldn’t quite grasp the point of the story.The article didn’t have a clear lead and left us confused about the main message.The journalist didn’t do a great job of laying out the context, so the critical details were buried in an overwhelming amount of information.This experience got me thinking about how important it is for professionals to be able to analyze information quickly and efficiently — especially in today’s world, where we are constantly flooded with data and content.According to this post, understanding how to sift through information and make sense of it is an invaluable skill for any professional.

Why is Information Analysis Critical Today?

Every day, we are inundated with information from news articles, social media, work reports, emails, and more.The challenge isn’t finding information but figuring out what’s relevant and what’s not.The ability to quickly analyze and prioritize information can make all the difference in your productivity and overall success.Professionals who master this skill gain a greater advantage.They can cut through the noise, extract key insights, and make informed decisions faster than those who become overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information.In fast-paced environments, the ability to analyze vast amounts of data in seconds is a game-changer.The Good News is Information Analysis is a Learnable Skill.Yes, it isn’t an inherently difficult skill to acquire.However, it does require dedication and a commitment to lifelong learning.

As B.B. King once said, “The beautiful thing about learning is that no one can take it away from you.”

Learning doesn’t stop after you leave school — it happens every day, and mastering the art of quick information analysis is part of that ongoing process.Let me share quick Steps to Analyze Information with you, right away!On your journey to becoming a more effective information analyzer, here are some practical steps you can follow to help you:

Identify Credible Sources: Before diving into information, ensure your sources are reliable. Whether you’re reading news articles, industry reports, or blog posts, check the credibility of the source.
Define Your Goals: What do you want to achieve from analyzing this information? Clear goals will help you stay focused and filter out all unnecessary details.

3. Select Your Tools and Techniques: Depending on the type of information, choose the right tools and techniques to analyze it. This could involve using data analysis software, charts, or even breaking down the content into simpler segments.

4. Ensure Accuracy: Cross-check the data you’re working with. Compare it with best practices or previously collected data to make sure you’re on the right track.

5. Identify Patterns and Trends: Look for recurring patterns, trends, or missing links that can help you better understand the information at hand.

In my case, I had to check with other articles on the topic in question to get more facts. I needed to understand the information that led to the particular news article I was reading.

6. Draw Conclusions and Stay Open to Updates: Based on your analysis, draw your conclusions but remain open to new insights or updates that might adjust your perspective.

Always be willing to refine your understanding as new, credible information becomes available.

Key takeaway- Make this a Habit

Apply these steps consistently to create a systematic approach when analyzing information.With this. You’ll be able to quickly determine what’s relevant, make informed decisions, and avoid feeling overwhelmed by data.

Let’s wrap it up now!

In a world filled with constant information, the ability to analyze data quickly and efficiently is a valuable skill that can give you a competitive edge.With dedication and a commitment to lifelong learning, anyone can develop this skill and use it to thrive professionally.What’s your approach to analyzing information? Share your thoughts in the comments below!P.s: Don’t forget to give me claps if you believe this post was worth it.

How to Cut Through the Noise: Simple Tips to Analyze Information Faster. was originally published in Story Saturday on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.