There are a lot of contests for youths that are constituted by our President.Among them,the competition called "Young Reader" has become a sample of my vibrant memories.In fact,in 2022 for the first time I got to participate in the republican stage of this contest. I was left in 4th in the regional stage because of the lack of my experience.After this catastrophic lose of hope for winning,my craving for the reward has died.You may ask,who was the impetus for my constancy of attempts,then I would answer "that's my mom and my dad,they were the motivation themselves" I used to be just televiewer of this contest only, while the winners were gathered in front of the main stage I used to hear my mums words "when I will be able to see my daughter in the group of these intelligent young people?Will I see my daughter holding the main reward,waving the key of an automobile?"As I am a pupil of the russian school,where all the subjects are taught in Russian,I was strictly against to my participation in this contest as if  the sky was going to fall down to the ground. But my mother's request taught me not to lose myself, our national values, literature,not to forget my mother tongue. The terms of the competition were much more difficult, I hesitated too much when i was speaking in public for preparation of the contest. It was too challenging me. How many sleepless nights,cartoonless and phoneless days have I experienced...When I prioritized my perfect participation I dreamed a lot about: discussing difficult topics with the most quick-witted readers from the different parts of my country, creating a group on a Telegram Messenger, and building a brief conversation with them.The most interesting part was the  poetry challenge. I was in 4th in terms of the participants. Until this round I skimmed the whole book that was being presented to first participants.I felt that I should read this book as much as I can in order to answer to the questions of judges,but anyway the feeling of low memory-esteem left no way for me.I clearly remember that the participant  called Shahriyor asked me to lend the book. I felt the powerful fire inside. Soon realized that that's called jealousy.Somehow more powerful river ran and engulfed the flame, and gave back my sense of humanity to myself. Then I gave the book to Shahriyor. I began to turn the book "Little star" of Abdulla Oripov over and over until i was called to the main stage ...Just a minute before leaving the waiting room suddenly I came across the short poem.It was about a pen. I read it just once. On the stage I was required to choose any random number on the screen with random poems behind. This is unbelievable but... overriskingly,I chose the number 13 against the beliefs that it's an unlucky number.The 4 lines of the poem behind the number were the ones that I read 5 minutes ago!!!I was amazed!!!For the whole preparation year for this contest I read this poem only once,and plus once,there,in waiting room.I was confident in describing this poem to judges,as ideas were fresh in my mind.Fortunately,I got the highest score in this part of the challenges.While leaving the stage I was completely convinced that Allah is seeing all my efforts and will not leave them without reward.But at first,I speculate,I was examined in terms of humanity.When I agreed to lend that book,i passed the exam. I could control my jealousy and put the tolerance and humanity as my priorities.From that moment,I started to take actions accepting them as if they are exams that Allah is giving.What if I had not lent the book?!I would not achieve the highest score and stage overall.Thank God,I am receiving the fruits of my hard efforts.Shortly,that competition taught me a life lesson.

May 2021. The day when the pandemic struck our lives like a storm. "What should we do with the body?" The head nurse said it louder, awaiting a reply. We stood there, my brother and I, blank and shocked. We heard the nurse shout. We didn't reply. Our brains have been dead for quite some time. After a few minutes, "Pack the body. We'll take her to our native place," Brother said. "We cannot hand it over like that. Have you the permission?" Brother told her. "Okay then. And I take it that you're aware of the norms?" Fifteen days ago, Mom was fine when we brought her to the hospital. Soon she became a patient. Now a body. Brother requested to keep her face open so Father could see the body for one last time. 24th of May, 2021. We buried her a few metres away from our home. It was Father's wish to have it like that. To stay close to Mom. Soon after, the pandemic struck our lives like a storm. We admitted Mom to one of the best hospitals. I still remember the first day of our visit to the hospital. Mom peeped us from her bedroom window from the 4th floor while we lay on the road looking at her. Her actions showed how much she missed us. But we made signs that everything would be alright. And it was, for the first three days. Then after there was no improvement in her oxygen levels. The doctor who saw Mom blamed Mom every time for not responding to medications when we approached her to inquire about the status. But Mom as always maintained her usual conduct. Her intention was to never trouble us a bit. Had the doctor invested the same time in caring Mom rather than complaining about her, perhaps things would have been different? Now we're all parted. Father now stays alone in our native place with Mom's memories. I stay at my wife's place, and my brother at his wife's. Because our permanent address in the city has lost its value without Mom. So we stay far away, thinking her existence still exists. We do not want to be reminded of her absence. Some thirty years ago, when I was born, we were thrown out of the house. My grandparents were against my birth, which resulted in our separation. "Please don't dare return. In any case, if you ever get such a feeling, find a railway track," said they. Mother did not utter a word. This was her routine from birth. To be with the worst. For more than fifty years of her life, she had gone through thousands of such phases. When it was time for her to relax, God sent her to rest. When we admitted Mom to the hospital for treatment, she was hesitant at first. Later, when we asked the reason for her ignorance, the first thing she asked was, "Does the insurance cover my expenses?" Only when we convinced her that the expenses would not burden us, did she insist on staying. A day before she passed away, she called me closer, gave a smiling look and held my hand. "Tell me the truth now. Is there any money leftover in the insurance to cover my expenses?" Such was her nature.  In retrospect, I can't think of a single day when she bothered us. She was a strong, an independent woman who led her own path. She set the guidelines. We followed. When the numbers of infected were increasing in the city, we sent her to stay with Father since our native was the safest bet. The place was more remote, with fewer than a hundred people counted and each establishment metres apart. But tragedies occur without a plan. The loss has been heavy upon us. Without her, everything has come to a full stop. It feels like we're left in the middle of the road, to start all over again. There's no one at present to guide, to scold, to warn, to care and to grant unconditional love like her. Everything is still now. Even the trees. What we do not want now is to leave those things unattended which she always wanted us to put an end to. I dare say it needs more than hundreds of living creatures to fill her place. She has no comparison. She would not have received any awards but as we know, she herself was an award. She is not an inch less than God. If there's one thing we ask of the world, It is this: Her rebirth.

Television was the only source of the sound echoing all over the house. The channels were being kept changing between classical Indian music, sports and news by Rumi's father Ramesh. And on the other side, Rumi was sitting beside the window sipping the chai and enjoying her new storybook. 'The breakfast is ready!' exclaimed Brinda with ecstasy. Then, Rumi and her father went to the basin to perform the perfect five steps of washing their hands properly to protect themselves and the others from the prominent virus all over the world taking lives - the covid 19. After that, their faces were equally bored by eating the same recipe of poha for three days regularly. The storage of food had decreased due to the scarcity in the corona time. Minutes proceeded with only the sound of ticking clocks and then they heard footsteps coming from the stairs. 'Good morning !' Ananda said. Ananda had come to travel all over Kolkata but he was stuck because of the lockdown all over the world. Suddenly seeing her uncle, Rumi's innocent face turned dull. Her fingers were shaking, and the spoon in her hand clunked loudly onto the floor. She took it hastily and left the room to the kitchen by running. Rumi was staring at the fan circling above her head making whirring sounds. She was listening to music and wanted to delete all the noises in all the world and her screams in her head. The sweet girl was spending her abundant time thinking about death. Her eyes were watering and seemingly nobody knew the reason. She was clasping her thighs and pushed her nails into it, there became prominent red marks when she heard a knock on her door and as a reflex, she covered herself up, covered the strikes with her ladybugs printed pants, wiped out her tears, paused the playlist and went to open the door. Brinda came with a plate of freshly cut mangoes from their garden and gave it to the hands of Rumi. Mom: 'Is there anything you want to tell me?' Rumi was awestruck for a moment. Although she tried to tell everything but converted the discussion to her studies. 'I am fine ma. I am a bit late in my studies but I will cope up. Mom: ' Yeah, I noticed that too. This is the first online test where you got a b grade in maths, you have always got a grade in all your subjects' Me: 'Ma, I said Nah! I will improve ' Mom: ' Ok, I told this to your uncle and he said he will help you with mathematics from today .' Rumi was petrified, panic-stricken. The hair stood on end, her heart was in her mouth. She was standing there without motions and shaking like a leaf. She broke into a cold sweat, and she could not open her mouth to speak a word also. In the crisis going on the whole world because of the pandemic, all people were facing different troubles in their lives. There were fewer oxygen tanks for patients suffering from the disease and for Rumi - there was less oxygen in her lungs as well, in her house, in her home. She could not breathe. In the evening, she sat stiffly by her uncle to learn maths. The scary sight was being nearer to Rumi in disguise of Ananda's hand. He was pointing one hand to algebra and with the other hand, he was brushing little Rumi's shoulder with his thumb. His hands were going up, stroking the little neck of Rumi. He snatched one strand of her hair and was twirling it. His evil fingers were being circled onto the girl's face. Then the hands were reaching for down. Ananda was scratching Rumi's soft neck with his claws, and then the hand was crawling inside her turtleneck top, towards her bra strap. Rumi's legs ceased, her voice fell silent, she could not make a sound also. All was numb from her head to the nails of her legs, the fingers were cold, and she was sitting with a closed door behind. Wearing the turtleneck top on this hot summer day and full leggings also not protected her, she thought to herself. She felt that her uncle was not stuck in her house in the lockdown, she was - she was stuck in the lockdown in her own home. She tumbled, fell and fled to the bathroom and shouted hard. Rumi was moaning, screaming and sobbing. She was slapping herself and was trying to rip down her full clothes. Brinda and Ramesh came down horrifically and was banging the door. Rumi finally found the courage, she came out unhurriedly, pointed her tiny fingers to her uncle Ananda and let out all the pain ' He harassed me, he tried to rape me, he had touched my thighs before and now he is trying to touch all parts of the mine. ' After some prominent calmness, the storm came. Rumi's father's rage was coming out, his eyes became red with trickling water. Ramesh took Rumi in his arms and caressed her hair. Brinda's eyes were flowing with water, she squeezed Rumi and took her into her core. Ramesh just uttered some words which were so straight and severe to not her uncle but her rapist; ' You will get the place you deserve. A police station or better death. Now take all and leave at this instant only. '

Television was the only source of the sound echoing all over the house. The channels were being kept changing between classical Indian music, sports and news by Rumi's father Ramesh. And on the other side, Rumi was sitting beside the window sipping the chai and enjoying her new storybook. 'The breakfast is ready!' exclaimed Brinda with ecstasy. Then, Rumi and her father went to the basin to perform the perfect five steps of washing their hands properly to protect themselves and the others from the prominent virus all over the world taking lives - the covid 19. After that, their faces were equally bored by eating the same recipe of poha for three days regularly. The storage of food had decreased due to the scarcity in the corona time. Minutes proceeded with only the sound of ticking clocks and then they heard footsteps coming from the stairs. 'Good morning !' Ananda said. Ananda had come to travel all over Kolkata but he was stuck because of the lockdown all over the world. Suddenly seeing her uncle, Rumi's innocent face turned dull. Her fingers were shaking, and the spoon in her hand clunked loudly onto the floor. She took it hastily and left the room to the kitchen by running. Rumi was staring at the fan circling above her head making whirring sounds. She was listening to music and wanted to delete all the noises in all the world and her screams in her head. The sweet girl was spending her abundant time thinking about death. Her eyes were watering and seemingly nobody knew the reason. She was clasping her thighs and pushed her nails into it, there became prominent red marks when she heard a knock on her door and as a reflex, she covered herself up, covered the strikes with her ladybugs printed pants, wiped out her tears, paused the playlist and went to open the door. Brinda came with a plate of freshly cut mangoes from their garden and gave it to the hands of Rumi. Mom: 'Is there anything you want to tell me?' Rumi was awestruck for a moment. Although she tried to tell everything but converted the discussion to her studies. 'I am fine ma. I am a bit late in my studies but I will cope up. Mom: ' Yeah, I noticed that too. This is the first online test where you got a b grade in maths, you have always got a grade in all your subjects' Me: 'Ma, I said Nah! I will improve ' Mom: ' Ok, I told this to your uncle and he said he will help you with mathematics from today .' Rumi was petrified, panic-stricken. The hair stood on end, her heart was in her mouth. She was standing there without motions and shaking like a leaf. She broke into a cold sweat, and she could not open her mouth to speak a word also. In the crisis going on the whole world because of the pandemic, all people were facing different troubles in their lives. There were fewer oxygen tanks for patients suffering from the disease and for Rumi - there was less oxygen in her lungs as well, in her house, in her home. She could not breathe. In the evening, she sat stiffly by her uncle to learn maths. The scary sight was being nearer to Rumi in disguise of Ananda's hand. He was pointing one hand to algebra and with the other hand, he was brushing little Rumi's shoulder with his thumb. His hands were going up, stroking the little neck of Rumi. He snatched one strand of her hair and was twirling it. His evil fingers were being circled onto the girl's face. Then the hands were reaching for down. Ananda was scratching Rumi's soft neck with his claws, and then the hand was crawling inside her turtleneck top, towards her bra strap. Rumi's legs ceased, her voice fell silent, she could not make a sound also. All was numb from her head to the nails of her legs, the fingers were cold, and she was sitting with a closed door behind. Wearing the turtleneck top on this hot summer day and full leggings also not protected her, she thought to herself. She felt that her uncle was not stuck in her house in the lockdown, she was - she was stuck in the lockdown in her own home. She tumbled, fell and fled to the bathroom and shouted hard. Rumi was moaning, screaming and sobbing. She was slapping herself and was trying to rip down her full clothes. Brinda and Ramesh came down horrifically and was banging the door. Rumi finally found the courage, she came out unhurriedly, pointed her tiny fingers to her uncle Ananda and let out all the pain ' He harassed me, he tried to rape me, he had touched my thighs before and now he is trying to touch all parts of the mine. ' After some prominent calmness, the storm came. Rumi's father's rage was coming out, his eyes became red with trickling water. Ramesh took Rumi in his arms and caressed her hair. Brinda's eyes were flowing with water, she squeezed Rumi and took her into her core. Ramesh just uttered some words which were so straight and severe to not her uncle but her rapist; ' You will get the place you deserve. A police station or better death. Now take all and leave at this instant only. '

I entered Theinkedperceptions.blogspot competition this week with my fable, "Why You Can See the Rabbit in The Moon." It is the first of many to come. https://theinkedperceptions.blogspot.com/2020/09/why-you-can-see-rabbit-in-moon-inked.html?spref=fb&fbclid=IwAR103N6oLDjCwOpRQ4na8kpkIe9NzYYrRRFQV1RT7E1GF0eFEa5xUBEG5Ho

The lockdown has opened my eyes to many things. As a writer, before the enforcement of lockdown nationwide in my country, I had a lot to write about, because I was always going out, seeing new things, witnessing so many interesting things, and enjoying myself. When the lockdown started, it was like a living hell for me, because in normal circumstances, I'm the type of person that will prefer to go a long way to see my friend and talk rather than just sit down at home and talk with my neighbors. Two weeks into the lockdown, I was already feeling homesick, all I did most times was to wake up, take my phone look for writing opportunities online, chat my friends up, sleep, and eat. It got to a time that even writing became a problem for me, I was just seeing the same thing every day, which was beginning to make me sick. One month passed, and there was still total lockdown, I had no choice than to start mingling with my neighbors, starting to know them better. Fortunately for me, one of the children who were my mate was also a writer, and I always enjoyed talking to him, we could rub minds together. Soon enough, I began to see so many things I could write about, but the laziness that I had allowed to enter me hindered me, I kept on postponing my writing plans. This neighbor of mine noticed my not writing, and forcefully asked me to pick a date when we can write together so that I don't get the opportunity to postpone again. So, I picked a date, we met at his house, and then we chose what to write on, I was hoping to be the best writer in my area. I picked my pen to write, and then boom, I went blank, I thought of what to write, but it still was not coming, wow, I was stuck and shocked, because I felt I could just pick up writing just like I dropped it, but wow, it shocked me. My neighbor and I then started to write more frequently, any little happening within the environment, no matter how minute it might be or look we would turn into a writing challenge. We began dusting our pens and books, writing articles, poems, stories; narrative, descriptive, any type, and form of writing. We went online, took courses that could help our writing ability, and help us improve it. Then we began calling our friends that we used to write together, to help them as well so that we won't all forget and relent on our writing skills, we began passing writing competitions to ourselves, at least if we could not reach the qualifying stages for some of those competitions, at least we tried our best and wrote what we felt was our best. Then came my mom's birthday, we all planned to bake a cake, the female among us helped us bake it, then somehow, some of my friends smuggled themselves to my house that day to celebrate my mom's birthday, it was really fun, and as usual, we converted into a very fine and interesting story. After about two months of doing our writing exercise, the lockdown was eased in my country, we were able to move out on weekdays but refrain on weekends. We were really happy at this new development, we started planning big, we were moving from house to house together, writing with our friends, my neighbors' friends became my friends, and my friends too became his friends. At times, we would go to a friend's house on Friday, and come back on Monday. Of course, we were not only writing throughout, especially weekends, we would play games as well, football games on a laptop, combat games as well, we even contributed money to buy good games that we could all play together with, but at the same time, our burning for writing did not die down. Then came the day for the senior sister of my neighbor to tie the knot, and get married. We were very excited because one, she was very understanding, and we always enjoyed her company, we were more like her very own best younger ones. Secondly, we were going to eat a lot, without anybody disturbing us, oh my goodness, and finally, another story to write on. We all loved her, so we helped her with the preparations for the party. We were all sad that she was leaving actually because that meant that we won't be having anybody to disturb again, but we were mostly guys, so just to form the big boy impression, we could not cry, we just kept on doing all we could do to help her smooth transitioning into her husband's house. The wedding day came, she allowed us to seat in front like we were all her ex-boyfriends. I was really happy, and made the best use of that day, because that was my first official outing to a party, in months, it was like I just broke out of prison, it was really fun that day, we all planned that we will write about our experiences before that day was over, but trust me, we all slept like logs of wood, we could not write anything until the next day, and we wrote a lot on the next day. I doubt if I will ever forget that party. My lockdown experience was more of a neighbor helping neighbor experience.

This year, we all are facing something we didn't even think about. A very unnamed and destructive living character came into existence this year. The whole world has faced its destruction and named it as CORONA virus emerged from China and did a world tour without having any visa and passport. The impact of this virus is irredeemable. And this virus bound us to live in home quarantine. This situation made us realize a need of proper lockdown and home quarantine system. From here, my story of home quarantine begins- In INDIA, due to this virus a very prolonged lockdown started. My quarantine life was also like everyone else's just to stay at home, do nothing and pass my time. Initially, I was quite happy that for some days I didn't have to go anywhere. I was very excited because I had just completed my 10th exam and was indeed free from studies. I started my first day of lockdown or home quarantine with waking up late in the morning, getting fresh and having my breakfast. I passed my day watching Netflix movies or series, playing online games, listening music and having fun. I passed two or three more days like that but after that my boring passage of time started because I was getting fed up with my daily routines. There is a phrase in hindi “Khali dimag saitaan ka ghar” in English it means “Empty mind devil's house” according to this phrase, Some mischievous work occurred in my brain and we prepared to make Pani puri an Indian street dish but that enraged my mom a lot because of the mess we made. After that I was not allowed to enter in the kitchen. I was left with two bedrooms, a small corridor and bathroom where I could roam. At first, I was thinking about a few days of lockdown but it turned into few months of lockdown. I actually passed about two and a half months staying at home. We made a lot of efforts to go to our hometown and finally we got pass to move for about 3 hours amid the situation out there and moved to our hometown for about a month. I really enjoyed a lot with my three cousin brothers and my brother. We learnt how to make Idli sambhar a south Indian dish with the help of youtube and we were quiet successful because that was so delicious. We used to watch a lot of movies like series of Harry Potter, Zero dark thirty, The mask and many more. After so many years, I watched horror movies one after another. I watched Amityville house and The possession of Hannah grace but I didn't find it that much scaring but the fact is I watched about half part of the movie closing my eye. But the next day, I watched The conjuring and I was very scared the whole day. That night, I got scared when my brother waved his blanket over me because only that ghost look was moving in my head. But you can say I am that much stubborn that instead of all that scary feeling I watched Conjuring 2 the next day. And that look of ghost Valak haunted me for weeks and I have once again decided not to watch horror movies. Again, after a month or so we moved to our place and lived about two more weeks in home quarantine. And I realized that my father has very much patience because no one can believe that he passed his whole lockdown watching Corona updates on news. I believe that we should know what is going on in the world but that much would drive someone insane but hats off for my father. But this lockdown had some positive impact on environment. Nature of many parts of India improved because we were not going out that proves that we have spoiled our nature and we are the one who is facing its consequences. Instead of positive I noticed psychology of most of the Indians. I have mentioned myself stubborn above but I think I am not that much because people in India were again and again breaking lockdown and our police officers had to make efforts to make them stay at home. It proves whether the most of the people are not aware of the situation or they want to spread this virus. After that much attempt the commencement of Unlock 1 announced. But ending of lockdown does not mean that corona has stopped its spreading. Instead of unlock we are getting out when it is necessary because we are the only ones who can keep our immunity strong and be safe. Here comes the end of my story with the pray that our world will get rid of this problem very soon and we will again be free to visit any place we want instead of fear of corona spreading. And god will support us with every possible ways.

In this quarantine times, I find a breakthrough in my life, that makes my life more meaningful. I found a self-development program that really makes a great impact in every aspect. This program has a refund if we really did all the task required, but we can also continue to the next level if we choose not to refund it. The program is called Life-book. It was developed by Jon and Missy Butcher and emphasizes on how we create and achieve our goals in 12 different aspects: Health and Fitness, Intellectual, Emotional, Spiritual, Character, Love and Relationship, Social Life, Parenting, Financial, Career, Quality of Life and Life Vision. I joined this program through Mind-valley education program. Before this quarantine times, I lived a remarkably busy life. Sometimes it feels like 24 hours is not enough to finish all my ‘need to do' list. Sometimes I feel exhausted because of all the activities all day round. That makes my life seems meaningless, because I do not have times to evaluate and correct my life. And to make it worse, I never have a clear life vision when I finished my education long time ago. So, it seems that I only live my life just like that, without ever plan or evaluate my achievements. When I first joined Life-book program, I directly saw what went wrong in my life. This program forces us to think about what our vision is in every aspect, and how to get them. And although it's not part of the program, I also review all my achievements and failures in the past and try to understand myself. It seems that I already lost control of my life. Because of that, I vowed to take back the control of my life in every aspect mentioned before. Now, I continue to control my own life. Sometimes I can get more than expected, sometimes I experienced some setbacks. But I keep using my Life-book as my life compass. And every month, I evaluate my Life-book and update it according to the present circumstances. And I hope this Life-book will help me achieve all my life goals in the future

It was one fine morning, I woke up as the sun's ray glimmered onto the closed lid of my eyes. I was wide awake but my consciousness only grew when my mother knocked on my door to summon me for breakfast. I turned my phone on first to post “Good morning!” on Facebook, then stood up, wore my glasses, fixed my bed, and went straight ahead to the dining table where I found my family properly seated and ready to eat. It was a hearty breakfast. As Filipinos, we are accustomed to eating a significant amount of viand composed of the reheated food left from dinner, freshly cooked scrambled eggs, slices of bacon, cheap bread, a large bowlful of fried rice, and mugs of either hot chocolate or coffee. After working up my appetite, I went to the living room to turn the television on and watch the news as I remember we're still being haunted by the COVID-19 pandemic. My attention got instantaneously caught by the TV show played when I changed the channel -- an emotional thief, his nanny, and his blind blue men, and how they are fixing the problems they created while fighting an invisible enemy. He's no ordinary burglar though, he's not the typical wearing-an-aged-stripes-shirt type of thief. He's wearing a fine cloth and hands-free. He repeatedly assured everyone that he will no longer make the same mistakes that he still commits over and over since 2016, despite the overflowing number of people being cheated on and robbed of, apart from the overwhelming number of people acquiring the virus. The thief has a nanny whom he commands to face the people when he's been face slapped by the problems that he had inflicted on him. I cannot fully fathom how head-high the nanny is while talking about how the thief is robust in fixing his problems. The nanny then applauded the thief's blind blue men for doing great in advancing and imposing discipline to those who are aggressively retaking what they lost. They call them “terrorists” Probably because they are aggressive when they demand justice and equality from the thief? “Can we blame them?” I asked myself. “They only want to retake what was theirs. They are mere citizens peacefully living their lives but were robbed of by the thief. It is their basic right to demand.” I cannot fully grasp how great the thief and his cronies are at misdirecting the people's attention. Instead of fighting the invisible enemy, they chose to focus on reprimanding their so-called “terrorists” for loitering on the street. They even cut a rich man and his company workers' tongues to keep them from spreading credible information to the people whom the thief has been cheating on to. Can they reconsider their priorities?” I mumbled furiously. The show ended with a glimpse of the next episode. It began with how the thief is seeking for the masses' cooperation for him to finally eliminate the enemy, and ended with him, his nanny, and his blind blue men standing in front of a crowd with their right fist clenched towards the people. I sat quietly as the show faded to a close, gazing steadily at the transparent vase in front of me, wondering how such an idiotic TV show, whose main purpose is to entertain, awakened my senses of the reality that is happening around me. I am uncertain, but I know one thing is for sure: This is real. It is happening. Now, I understand that the people's rage is sparked by the unfair treatment and abuse of those who are in power. Because instead of putting an end to the invisible enemy which has claimed too many people's lives, the thief prioritized presenting us with laws that do nothing but trample our rights and take away our freedom of speech by arresting us for airing our grievances on our social media accounts. And instead of putting first our welfare, he chose to shut down a media company for speaking the truth and providing us with credible information. While his nanny and his blind blue men, on the other hand, continue to do what they're best at -- tell the people that everything is fine while things are falling to pieces, and if we choose to dissent, arrest us without a warrant and present us with trumped-up charges. I was beginning to think that all this is just part of my dream and I only need to slap myself to wake up, but no, this is the reality and I am living it. I posted something on Facebook that says “What we can do for now is to wait for the vast spread of the virus to finally stop, because after that is the day of reckoning” and put my phone on the side to rest. --- It was one fine morning, I woke up as the sun's ray glimmered onto the closed lid of my eyes. I was wide awake but my consciousness only grew when my mother knocked on my door to summon me for breakfast. I immediately stood up, wore my glasses, fixed my bed, and went straight ahead to the dining table only to find two men in blue uniform waiting for me to go with them to the police station for posting something that angered the thief.

Light Space Time 10th Annual “Botanicals” Online Art Competition of 844 international entries included “Broach" and "Monet Liliaceae 2" awarded Special Merit after top 15 artists “Broach” features Jasmine taken recently in Knopp Park nestled in Little Rock, AR just as the sun was rising while birds sang and lovely people welcomed to me to their neighborhood walk. “Monet Liliaceae 2” is inspired hy Monet's impressionism and features a field of tulips also known as liliaceae “Only Iris for You" placed Special Recognition after this category “Only Iris For You” also recently came from Knopp Park. I was fortunate enough to see this lovely Iris at its peak. “The gallery also included Special Merit awards and Special Recognition awards for outstanding art. Many of the artists in either of these groups could have easily been included in the upper tier of our winners, as their art was also exceptional.”

As 1 of the top 15 (first honorable mention in fact) w “Verge” considered 1 of the winning artists and “Aspire” is listed 1st in Special Merit. https://www.lightspacetime.art/cityscapes-art-exhibition-2020-photography-digital-category/

“Autumn at Dardanelle 2” by Y. Hope Osborn featured in the gallery Black Box Gallery of Portland, OR for exhibit Black and White: 2020 during February. http://blackboxgallery.com/Black%20and%20White-2020-EP.html

Skies—Awarded Special Merit among 16 others after 1-3 place for each “Storm Clouds” and “Cloud Complexity” http://www.artroomgalleryonline.com/current_exhibition.html

“Cloud Complexity” awarded Contemporary Art Gallery Online's Gallery Choice in Photography & Digital Open/No Theme internstional exhibit. https://www.contemporaryartgalleryonline.gallery/2019-openno-theme-winners I have found that public opinion gives it a really dislike to really like rating. To purchase you may go to https://www.artmajeur.com/yhosborn or contact me through artworkarchive.com/YHopeOsborn Thanks!

The sidewalk is stained and uneven. Presumably, the unevenness came first and tumbled the alcohol-filled bellies of the night folk, which in turn caused the stains. The people who surround me right now remind me of those night folk. They yell and stomp to the melody of their own voices. They bump into one another and pour their hearts out to the sky. Their energy is truly intoxicating, it envelops me and soon enough I am doing the same. We sing and we scream, and we cry. But it is not night time. All the bars and the clubs are closed. In fact, the sun shines so bright behind us that I can feel a puddle of sweat gathering on my lower back. We do not sing to music, we do not scream because we are free, and we do not cry for our own selfish reasons. We do it because we no longer have the choice not to. The strings of morality attach themselves to the crowd and move us forward like a winding snake, waiting to strike. Signs painted with pleas are pushed out of the crowd and then pulled back in. Their corners sharper than the ingrown toenail digging through my flesh. It's painful, but it's the kind of pain that is truly nothing. The kind of first world melodrama that manifests itself in different forms at the end of every week. What I am doing is supposed to be bigger than that, bigger than everything. A matter of death or even faster death. These are the words the wind speaks to us on a sweltering day in September. They begin their journey far north where melting glaciers screech profanity as they drown in the ocean below. Their cries are slowly moulded by time and space until they become digestible enough that they can be fed to our fragile egos. A man spits them out onto the sidewalk in front of our conservative representative. The crowd falls silent as this cartoon fool contorts and cusses until his face can no longer support a darker shade of red. In the distance, you can hear our glaciers moan as they accept defeat in this global game of telephone. Congratulations, you have succeeded in looking like an idiot in front of the man who just tried to tell us that solar energy works better in Europe because they are closer to the sun. Behind them, a window reflects a scene back to me. In the middle, two little boys point fingers at one another. Behind them, 600 people stand and watch. Reality TV has gotten quite predictable these days. The crowd seems to agree and slowly people die off until there are only a few of us left. We stand in a circle and listen. I don't know why I stayed, to be honest, I don't completely understand why I walked here in the first place. All I know is that what we did today feels important. We did not walk to get to a destination, we walked so that 50 years from now our kids can walk too. But their bellies will be full, and the moon will be shining and the only thing they will have to worry about is the uneven sidewalks.