"Before the war, beads were my sanctuary. I used to weave them into bracelets and charms—small, colorful tokens of love for my friends and teachers. Each bead held a piece of our laughter, a shared secret, and a promise that we would always be together.

But today, those classroom seats are empty. Many of my dear friends are no longer with us. They are gone, but their presence still lingers—a soft, painful echo circling my soul" — @Layan2002

https://www.journeyman.cc/layan/posts-output/2026-07-03-The-Price-of-Memory/