Life
Check in French .
A book that remained present in my mind and even left its mark in a strange place in my body that cannot be determined, just as it is not possible to determine the location of the soul or its type, and even if the heart tells us that he knows a lot about it, the heart, in turn, hides many things from us about himself, we do not know,
By mohamed tabouche11 months ago in Writers
When We Were Small
When we were small, the world felt enormous—not because it truly was, but because we had not yet learned to measure it with fear. Back then, distances were crossed with bare feet, not hesitation. Walls were climbed, not avoided. People were trusted before we learned the price of doing so. Childhood was a place, not a time. And somewhere along the way, we left it without noticing the door closing behind us. There are days I still remember the language we once spoke—a language made of laughter too loud for rooms, stories whispered in the dark, and promises we believed in simply because we didn’t know how not to. Back then, the world taught gently. Pain came in small lessons: a scraped knee, a broken toy, a friend who moved away. We cried, yes. But we always believed tomorrow would fix what hurt. We didn’t yet know that some tomorrows never arrive. But that was the beauty of being small—we lived as if they always would. Sometimes I try to picture us then: two small silhouettes running ahead of our shadows, chasing a sun that never seemed to set. You carried your hope like a slingshot in your pocket, always ready to aim it at the next dream. I carried mine like a folded note in my palm, afraid the wind might steal it if I let go. Yet somehow, we understood each other. You pulled me forward. I steadied you. We learned the world together, step by trembling step. And long before life taught us how to harden, we taught each other how to soften. Growing up didn’t happen in one day. It happened in tiny fractures—moments when the world asked us to be older than we felt. The first time someone spoke to you with cruelty. The first time I realized not every promise can be kept. The first time we saw love fail in the adults we trusted. Each moment chipped away at our smallness, carving us into something new—something more careful, more aware, more afraid. But even as the world demanded pieces of us, we tried to keep the best parts from slipping away. There is a kind of courage in remembering who you used to be. We didn’t know then that joy had an expiration date. We didn’t know how quickly innocence erodes, how quietly childhood packs its bags. We only knew the smallness that felt like safety—where minutes stretched wide, where mornings tasted like possibility, where the future felt too distant to fear. I think about those versions of us sometimes—the ones who believed the world would meet us with open hands. And I wonder: did we disappoint them? Did we become too cautious, too guarded, too grown? Or did we become exactly what they hoped—older, yes, but still carrying flashes of light from when life was simpler? Maybe growing up wasn’t about losing the smallness, but about learning how to protect the parts worth keeping. Whenever life feels heavy now, I return to us— to the dirt under our nails, to the sun-warm earth, to the way we thought everything broken could be mended with a little glue and a lot of belief. I close my eyes and find myself in the old backyard, where the sky stretched wide and forgiving. I can still hear our voices—unpredictable, messy, full of dreams that didn’t yet have names. And I realize something I never understood then: We weren’t small. We were vast. Because everything we felt, we felt completely. We felt joy with our whole bodies. We felt wonder without apology. We felt love without fear. Maybe that’s why those days still echo, even now. What I know now, after all these years, is this: We grow older, yes. But we never stop being the children we once were. The smallness remains—quiet but alive—waiting for the moments when we slow down enough to hear it. Waiting for the days when our hearts remember how to open without being asked. Waiting for us to choose softness again. And when life feels too loud, too sharp, too heavy, I return to that little version of myself—and to you—and I listen. Because somewhere in those early echoes lies the truest version of who we were. And maybe, if we’re brave enough, the truest version of who we still are.
By Jhon smith11 months ago in Writers
My 2025 Vocal Community Stories
Following Rachel Deeming's suggestion at the beginning of the year, I challenged myself to write at least one story for each of the Vocal Communities throughout 2025. There are 48 Communities now, and I have written for 30 of them in over four years on Vocal, before 2025. In this earlier story, I made an inventory of my best stories (often earning a Top Story badge) in these communities, but I cannot edit it anymore so I'm creating this one.
By Lana V Lynx11 months ago in Writers
Bad mother?
As a mother we are always on mom mode 24/7. It never stops unless you actually put time aside during the day for yourself. Whether that be going to the gym which is what I do, or going out to eat with a friend, going for a hike. Just doing something that doesn’t involve taking your kids with you. Now what I learned is that it’s absolutely essential to make some time for yourself even if it’s for an hour or 2. That does not make you a bad mother! Creating this time for yourself helps keep you sane especially if you’re a stay at home mom and are inside all day. Don’t feel ashamed or feel bad for wanting some time for you. It’s okay to turn off mom mode for an hour or two and recollect yourself. Don’t let people’s opinions cloud your mind into thinking you’re a bad mother. You do what you have to do for yourself too. You have to make yourself happy too. I use to feel bad for asking my family to watch my baby so I can at least go to the gym. I felt bad to the point where I was so hesistant to ask, and didn’t go for a while. But in doing so I was becoming more irritated at home. Meaning I seemed like I was mad which was not the case. I didn’t have that time for myself to recollect and destress. It got to the point where my aunt asked me if I was okay, and I told her “ I’m just so bored being home”. So she suggested I go to the gym and she would watch my baby. What I learned from this is not to feel bad for putting yourself first sometimes. We all need some time for ourselves, it’s how we can recharge our battery. Make that time for you even if it is just a short amount of time. You will always be a mother first but before you became a mother you were just you. Still continue to do what make you happy, and what makes YOU.
By Merjaunie Lena11 months ago in Writers
Why Security Tool Diversity Matters: Exploring the Best Snyk Alternatives for Modern DevSecOps Teams
In the world of application security, brand recognition can create a powerful sense of safety. Tools like Snyk have become household names, synonymous with developer-first security. Their success has rightfully highlighted the importance of shifting security left and empowering developers to own their code's integrity. For many organizations, Snyk is the default choice, a one-stop shop for securing the software development lifecycle.
By Shahid Publisher11 months ago in Writers
A Hedonistic Day in West Palm Beach
By far the most darling city with the worst reputation, not many young, active solo travelers find themselves in West Palm Beach. Why? Is it because of the attitudes, the whispers of cultishness, the general draw for activities besides polo tournaments and boating competitions slim? Maybe you’ve been told there’s not much to see there, that it’s too laid back, to the point of being treacly. Currently holding the place in my heart for favorite airport hotel, West Palm is my most recent conquest, a place I have been able to make lovely in my mind. A small warning that I might be biased: growing up in a small town south of Orlando, home of a gas station and Publix only, it was the closest big city; my parents would drive us down to the farmer’s market by Clematis, or to get ice cream and walk on the Municipal Beach on a Sunday in November, when the weather was pleasant. They would go to Sunfest by the waterfront in their wilder days, and leave my brother and I with our grandparents. Now the only times I traipse around the little city are when I go for work, in which I’ve recently constructed what would be the absolute perfect day in West Palm Beach: a day set for myself, a “thought daughter” esque writer, constantly on the brink of existentialism, bored with everything except people-watching.
By Thought Daughter Travels11 months ago in Writers
“Maps of the Heart: Places We Leave Behind”
Maps of the Heart: Places We Leave Behind By [Ali Rehman] There are maps drawn on paper, inked in neat lines and careful strokes. And then there are maps we carry inside us — invisible, unrolled only when memory calls them. They are stitched with emotions instead of roads, landmarks built of moments instead of cities. These are the maps of the heart: the places we loved, the corners where we broke, and the quiet roads where we grew, sometimes without even knowing.
By Ali Rehman11 months ago in Writers
A Special Rock from Karelia—This Is Shungite?
Shungite is not just an ordinary black rock. It comes from the Karelia region of Russia and is believed to be around two billion years old—older than the first complex life on Earth. Because of this incredible age, unusual carbon structure, and unique abilities, shungite has continued to amaze scientists, teachers, and students for many years. Whether you’ve heard about it for its scientific value, its use in cleaning water, or its popularity in wellness trends, shungite remains one of the most fascinating natural materials ever discovered.
By Shahid Publisher11 months ago in Writers
