Happy New Year!

Flowers in the garden.

the fuck they doin over der

Poori, an Indian dish.

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she's a villainess??? wrong. she's my special little girl with her enriching little hobbies. only a few people died anyway

🌿 My Name is Rola, and This is My Story 🌿

I never thought I would be writing this. I never thought I would be begging for help just to keep my children warm, just to feed them one more meal. But here I am, reaching out to you, because I have no other choice.

My name is Rola. I am a mother of two beautiful children, and before October 7th, we had a life filled with love and laughter. We had a home. My children had their own room, filled with their toys and drawings. We would sit together on our balcony, drinking coffee in the early morning light. We had dreams, just like any other family.

But in an instant, it was all gone.

A missile struck. The earth shook beneath us. The air filled with dust and fire. My husband and son ran, stumbling over each other in terror. I stood frozen, the ringing in my ears drowning out my own screams. Our home was shattered—windows blown out, doors ripped from their hinges. And when I looked outside, our neighbor’s house, a place that once echoed with children's laughter, was nothing but rubble and ash.

That was just the beginning.

The bombs never stopped. Every night, I held my children close as the sky rained fire. The sound of explosions mixed with the cries of mothers searching for their babies in the darkness. I covered my children, whispering words of comfort, but how do you comfort a child who is terrified of dying in their sleep?

We had to leave. We walked away from everything—our home, our memories, the warmth of our life before. My children left behind their favorite toys, their books, their safe space. Now, we have nothing.

No home.

No food.

No clean water.

No way out.

I went to buy sugar the other day. It cost $20 for just a kilo. Food is disappearing, and the little that remains is impossible to afford. Every day, I fight to find just enough to keep my children alive.

I am exhausted. I am scared. I need your help.

I never imagined I would have to beg for my family’s survival. But today, I am.

Please, if you are reading this, help us. Help me save my children. Help us find shelter, food, a way to rebuild even a small piece of the life we lost. If we ever have the chance to leave, we need support. If we are forced to stay, we need a home again.

Every donation matters. Every share helps. Every voice that speaks for us keeps hope alive.

💚 Please donate if you can. Share our story. Help us survive. 💚

gofundme.com

Donate to From Despair to Hope: Help us to rebuild our life., organized by Fatima Rajwani

Hi I am Fatima and live in London UK. I have known Rola now for appr… Fatima Rajwani needs your support for From Despair to Hope: Help us to

i'm sitting on the toilet thinking about how fear could have been our first emotion but love could have been too. fear to keep you alive, and love so that it was worth staying alive. so that the people around you know how it is to be held, how it is to be nursed back into health. so that those after you will remember, in their blood, what it means to love. because you loved. and will love.

love thy neighbor. have ravenous gay sex with him. what was i saying

'you are going to cry not all muslims' basically you're taking the actions of a couple of extremists as the front for all muslims. wow. amazing. muslims are totally waking up in the morning frothing at the mouth thinking about killing hindus. they have better things to worry about, for example people like you.

"Terrorism has no religion"

a slogan neatly written, folded and smoothened to perfection thrown in the face of those butchered tourists.