Stream of Consciousness
Everyone Gets a Soapbox
The Bell Tolls for You! Oyez, oyez, oyez! Hear ye, hear ye! Undust your bell. Get your cause on. The soapbox is yours. In honor of International Town Criers Day (second Monday in July), and with a nod to the International Day of Friendship (30th July).
By Mother Combsabout a year ago in Writers
Our Independence Day
Our Independence Day, at its core concept, is the independent gasp of a nation—an intangible instant condensed into history, memory, and legend. It is not so much a date enumerated by flags and parades; it is a throb of liberty, a transcendent liberation from the silences of servitude. By definition, Independence Day is the yearly celebration of a nation's freedom from foreign rule, colonial occupation, or tyrannical authority. But under this technicality is a maze of feelings, philosophies, and obligations beyond the ink of historical proclamations.
By Muhammad Abdullahabout a year ago in Writers
What AI Wrote About My Diary — And Why It Scared Me
What AI Wrote About My Diary — And Why It Scared Me It began on a rainy Sunday afternoon. I was at my desk, browsing through my diary app—a diary that is powered by artificial intelligence and which I had been keeping for months. At first, it was groundbreaking: I'd type in how my day went, how I felt, and the AI would offer me some feedback. It suggested habits I hadn't noticed—like how I always relaxed better after a late-night walk. Even sensed small worries I wasn't fully aware of. Like sensing a sense of loneliness underfoot amidst frantic to-dos.
By Yasar Nawazabout a year ago in Writers
Beyond the Coffin. Content Warning.
On June 27, 2025, Liberia buried former President Samuel Kanyon Doe in a long-delayed state funeral—thirty-five years after his assassination plunged the nation into chaos. The ceremony, held in his native Zwedru, was draped in military protocol and symbolism. Yet for many of us who lived through the war, who carry its scars not just on our bodies but deep in our memories, it wasn’t closure. It was confusion. And pain. Again.
By Emmanuel Orlind Cooperabout a year ago in Writers
The Second Cup
Every morning, I still make two cups of tea. One for me. One for her. It’s a ritual that doesn’t ask for permission. My body just moves—boil the water, drop the bags in, two spoons of sugar in hers, none in mine. I stir both. I wait. I carry them to the table. I set them down, just like always.
By Muhammad Maazabout a year ago in Writers
Why I'm Not Worried About AI. Top Story - June 2025.
Entering our third year of a post-AI world seems to have done little to dampen the hype around it. Buzzword or not, it’s hard to ignore the vigour in which tech is determined to crown itself the new feudal lord, constantly banging the marching drum of progress to the beat of enforced adoption. As a creative, I’m just as aware of the encroachment of AI, threatening the livelihood of artists, musicians, and writers.
By Conor Matthewsabout a year ago in Writers









