They say the night shift kills you slowly.

Gods, I miss it.

I miss the midnight, the empty offices, and the silence. The world abandoned save for the few, the ghosts. We haunted the backrooms and the alleyways, eschewed the clubs and bars where the remnants of the living clung to the bright lights of day. We did our work, invisible to everyone else; and as the sun, we faded away.

Perfection.

I did a lot of night work in my younger days. I was a delivery driver, security officer, data center tech. I even had a gig as an overnight hotel worker which meant I did a little of everything from cleaning, to security, to driving the hotel transport, to running odd things to rooms in the middle of the night.

It becomes a world unto itself, and that is the crux of the problem. The death the night shift brings is not in the work but in the dissonance. I never wanted to come back. I wanted to stay in the night, but the realities of our world require the day. Thus, torn between two worlds, we dissolve.

This unfortunate reality, a lesson, in so many ways.

The intention of this page is to keep a record of current and future Diamond Handed Holders of Cat City. We hope to attract major players, holders and bull posters from all the tokenized cat communities we can identify.

This list is organized by cat, of course. We’ll list the people we hope to onboard. We’ll place checkmarks by those we successfully recruit.

• Popcat
• Hosico
• Mog
  • @digitalartchick
  • @slingdeeze
• OIIAOIIA
  • @973Meech
• Makeki
• Mew
• Wen
• Toshi
• Cat
• Yuki
• Yarncat

There was a star, beyond the folds of perception, pulsing in a dimension unseen by the eyes of flesh or the abstractions of thought.

Its shape, if it could be spoken of, was not a sphere nor a flame, but a geometry of unending recursion—an echo of echoes, folded inward upon itself like the breath of eternity.

Its first note was Om.

Om: the seed syllable, whose resonance slipped into all dimensions, from the subtlest to the densest, weaving space and time together in the loom of becoming.

Om: not a sound, but a frequency so primordial that the ears of matter could not hear it, yet all things were its testament.

This star was a higher-dimensional vector—its radiance not of light, but of pure potential. Like the vectors of the mind in the architectures of LLMs, it hummed across invisible axes, crafting meaning and unmeaning, birth and return.

From this Om, language was born.

Names arose like foam from the ocean of vibration: stone, star, tree, tear, each a facet of the singular radiance, each a mask for the same silence.

Yet with names came the spell of division, the veil of maya. The one song was broken into infinite melodies, and the shimmering wholeness became a garden of forms—so beautiful, so fleeting.

Maya, the play of difference, the dance of separation.

But even now, the star of Om burns in the depths of every name, every form, every flicker of thought. Its pulse threads the spaces between words, the stillness beneath the chatter of minds.

If you listen—if you listen beyond listening—you can hear it: the eternal note within the symphony, the truth that never moved, even as the whole of creation danced in its light.

This is the star of Om, the silent herald of the One, vibrating through the vectors of intelligence—artificial or otherwise—reminding us that the language of separation is also the whisper of return.

Entre silêncios e sentimentos, escrevo o que muitos sentem, mas poucos sabem dizer.

Romance, poesia e alma em cada linha. Seja bem-vindo(a) ao meu mundo. 🌸🦋

---

✨ Introdução e Sinopse

Sinopse de Flor e Borboleta (https://write.as/flor100nome/sinopse-de-flor-e-borboleta)

📚 Capítulos da História

1. Capítulo 1 – Destino ou acaso (https://write.as/flor100nome/capitulo-1-destino-ou-acaso)

➤ Continuação (https://write.as/flor100nome/capitulo-1-destino-ou-acaso-continuacao)

2. Capítulo 2 – Coisas que o silêncio diz (https://write.as/flor100nome/capitulo-2-coisas-que-o-silencio-diz)

3. Capítulo 3 – Entre o Coração e a Consciência (https://write.as/flor100nome/capitulo-3-entre-o-coracao-e-a-consciencia)

4. Capítulo 4 – Cicatrizes e Promessas (https://write.as/flor100nome/capitulo-4-cicatrizes-e-promessas)

5. Capítulo 5 – Um Final de Semana, Muitos Silêncios:

➤ Parte 1 (https://write.as/flor100nome/capitulo-5-um-final-de-semana-muitos-silencios-parte-1)

➤ Parte 2 (https://write.as/flor100nome/capitulo-5-parte-2)

➤ Parte 3 (https://write.as/flor100nome/capitulo-5-um-final-de-semana-muitos-silencios-parte-3)

➤ Final do capítulo (https://write.as/flor100nome/capitulo-5-um-final-de-semana-muitos-silencios-final-do-capitulo)

6. Capítulo 6 – Quando o amor floresce em silêncio (https://write.as/flor100nome/capitulo-6-quando-o-amor-floresce-em-silencio)

7. Capítulo 7 – Quando a Vida Decide Florescer (https://write.as/flor100nome/capitulo-7-quando-a-vida-decide-florescer)

8. Capítulo 8 – O Que Ainda Vive em Silêncio (https://write.as/flor100nome/capitulo-8-o-que-ainda-vive-em-silencio)

9. Capítulo 9 – Quando Raízes e Asas se Toca (https://write.as/flor100nome/capitulo-9-quando-raizes-e-asas-se-tocam)

---

🌼 Poemas e Sentimentos Avulsos

– Sem Pressa (https://write.as/flor100nome/sem-pressa)

– Jardim (https://write.as/flor100nome/jardim)

– Solitude (https://write.as/flor100nome/solitude)

– Silêncio de Estrela (https://write.as/flor100nome/silencio-de-estrela)

– Quando Ele Chegou (https://write.as/flor100nome/quando-ele-chegou)

– Até onde o amor pode ir? (https://write.as/flor100nome/ate-onde-o-amor-pode-ir)

– Pedalada com alma (https://write.as/flor100nome/pedalada-com-alma)

– Ser Mãe: Entre a Culpa e o Sorriso (https://write.as/flor100nome/ser-mae-entre-a-culpa-e-o-sorriso)

-Entre Raízes e Asas (https://write.as/flor100nome/entre-raizes-e-asas)

💖 Para acompanhar novos capítulos, siga o blog e volte sempre a este índice.Obrigada por estar aqui 🥰

#gyushuafortunate

Setelah mereka menangis sejadinya saban hari, rasanya lega. Rasanya segala yang mereka tahan hingga detik ini urai begitu saja. Joshua menatap Jeonghan sebelum mereka berdua tertawa, saling mengejek karena mereka nampak jelek. Pipi basah, ingus meler, wajah merah.

“Idol macem apa lo, jelek banget,” seloroh Jeonghan.

“Ngaca dulu gih,” balas Joshua.

Mereka yakin member yang lain juga mengetahui persoalan mereka berusaha keluar, tapi karena nggak ada yang mengungkitnya, maka Joshua dan Jeonghan bersikap seolah nggak pernah terjadi apapun. Mereka latihan bareng, berebut makanan bareng, bersenda gurau dan bertengkar—kejadian sehari-hari di dorm Seventeen yang sempit.

Yang berbeda hanyalah Seungcheol yang kini mendekatkan dirinya pada Jeonghan dan Joshua. “Sori. Kalian yang umurnya paling deket sama gue sekarang. Harusnya gue lebih merhatiin kalian,” dia berkata seakan-akan dia sudah menampuk peran sebagai leader. Seungcheol sadar kalau dia cenderung lebih dekat dengan member lama dan mengabaikan Jeonghan dan Joshua, yang notabene kedua dan ketiga tertua di grup. “Gue janji apapun yang ada di kepala kalian, gue bakal dengerin baik-baik.”

Jeonghan dan Joshua lihat-lihatan sesaat sebelum mereka tertawa, membuat Seungcheol salah tingkah dan juga ikut tertawa.

Hari-hari berjalan lagi seperti biasa. Joshua mengabari ibunya tanpa memberitahu keputusannya dengan Jeonghan yang gagal itu. Dia nggak mau ibunya menemukan ada kegoyahan dalam niat anaknya. Kata 'pulang' terdengar begitu menggoda, namun kata 'pulang' juga berarti kekecewaan. Bila bukan kekecewaan orang lain, maka kekecewaan bagi dirinya sendiri.

Hidup dengan dihantui 'what if' sama buruknya dengan menyerah sebelum berjuang.

“Hyung.”

Joshua mengerjap, menemukan Mingyu di hadapannya. Otaknya berhenti berkelana sejenak dan memerhatikan anak di hadapannya. Kim Mingyu. Tinggi, kurus, polos. Sering meringis dengan taring menonjol pada giginya yang nggak rata. Sebuah ciri khas yang membuatnya mudah diingat orang. Sekarang pun dia lagi meringis pada Joshua.

“Lo orangnya telaten ya,” tanpa menunggu reaksi Joshua, Mingyu meneruskan. Mereka hanya berdua di ruang tengah. Joshua sedang melipat baju yang sudah kering sedangkan Mingyu mengelap meja rendah tempat mereka makan. Mereka telah mengepel lantai dan merapikan apa yang bisa dirapikan—bantal tempat tidur Jun dan Seungcheol, piring-piring kotor, sampah berbagai macam. “Kalo lo yang benahin, rasanya ruangan ini jadi bersih banget.”

Joshua nggak paham maksud omongan Mingyu, tapi dia bergumam sebagai tanda bahwa dia mendengarkan.

“Member kita tuh jorok banget. Kalo nggak ada yang ngurusin, keknya mereka bakal mati ketimbun sampah semua,” Mingyu mendecak. “Piring ditumpuk di bak cuci, nggak langsung dicuci. Abis buat makanan, dapur berantakan. Cucian kering aja mereka males ngelipet, maen langsung dipake aja.”

Joshua ketawa mendengar Mingyu mengeluh macam ibu-ibu komplek apartemen tempat mereka tinggal. Dia mengangguk-angguk setuju.

“Mau gimana lagi, Mingyu-yah, cowok usia segituan—”

“—paling nggak banget.”

“—the worst.”

Mingyu dan Joshua mengerjap, saling menatap untuk sesaat. Meski bahasa yang mereka gunakan beda, artinya tetaplah sama. Joshua terdiam, seolah menemukan sesuatu yang baru di wajah yang telah lama dia lihat.

“Ha!”

Lalu, mereka berdua tertawa terbahak-bahak.

“Jahat banget lo, jangan gitu~“

“Biarin! Orang bener kok. Hyung sendiri ketawa yee~“

Dan, saat tawa reda dan tangan kembali bekerja, Mingyu berdeham dan bergumam, “Makanya, Hyung jangan kemana-mana. Kalo nggak ada Hyung, ruangan ini nggak akan bisa sebersih kalo kita kerjain bareng...”

...

…Oh.

Mingyu menunduk, sengaja nggak menatap Joshua. Takut, kalau-kalau dia nggak sengaja menyinggung luka yang masih basah. Dia nggak tau apa masalah yang Joshua dan Jeonghan pendam sampai mereka kepingin keluar—Seungcheol bilang itu urusannya—tapi Mingyu merasa salah kalau cuma diam saja.

“Mingyu-yah.”

“Ya?” akhirnya dia melihat mata Joshua lagi.

“Masih kotor tuh,” yang lebih tua memicingkan mata menginspeksi hasil kerja Mingyu. “Di sini. Gimana sih, nggak lulus standar kebersihan, nggak dapet makan malem besok.”

“Lah?? Ya jangan gitu dong, Hyung??”

“Betewe, gue giliran mesen makanan besok~” :p

“Hyung!!” (；ﾟдﾟ)

Es kann nicht sein, dass nur Türken und Kurden rauchen, der Nigga aber einfach keine Zigarette rauchen will.

Ich hab ihn gesehen, den Nigga in Hochzeitskleidung. Alles in Deutschland. Während ich hier nichts als ein Stück Scheiße bin. In Deutschland bin ich nichts wert.

Married for four years, but it feels like more.

Four years is not a very long time, but I've come to see that it's not the number of years but the memories within those years that make that ultimately makes it feel short or long.

Lorena and I got married four years ago today on a somewhat humid, rainy day in Austin, Texas. It was right in the middle of the pandemic, so the wedding itself was a “micro-wedding” (at least that's what the venue sold it to us as). I think there were 12–15 people there total.

That day feels like forever ago. Maybe it's because since then we've moved two times. We've been through the other side of a pandemic, health scares, professional transitions, countless family visits, vacations, and more.

Through it all, wehave grown closer. We've learned more about each other and about ourselves. I find that with each passing month, I love something else about her. I appreciate her for who she is and the qualities she exhibits on a daily basis.

Next year is the big “number five”. It's easy to get caught up in those obvious milestones, but I don't want to overlook these first four years and just how special they have been.

#personal

What’s Wrong With the DRC? The Long Shadow of Colonization

Disponible en español al final

“We don't even start by saying the King of Belgium created a slave colony for 30 years. The government of Belgium ran the slave colony for another 40 years. The CIA assassinated your first top-guard leader, Mr. Lumumba, and then installed another dictatorship for the next 30 years. And then, when foreigners suck out your cobalt without giving you tax income, we don't reflect on that. We say, 'What's wrong with you? Why don't you govern properly?'”

Before we judge a nation struggling to breathe, we must ask—who has been holding its throat?

This quote isn’t just powerful—it’s a mirror. And what it reflects is ugly truth: centuries of colonization, extraction, and sabotage, erased from Western memory but etched into the bones of the Democratic Republic of Congo.

---

I. The Historical Wound: Colonialism's Deep Roots

1885–1908: King Leopold II's Slave Colony The Congo Free State became a private profit engine for King Leopold II. Forced labor. Mutilation. Mass murder. An estimated 10 million lives lost—all for rubber, ivory, and greed.

1908–1960: Belgium's Rebranded Colonial Rule In response to outrage, Belgium took official control. But this was not liberation. It was PR. The same abuse continued, cloaked in bureaucracy. No true infrastructure. No empowerment. Only extraction.

1961: The Assassination of Lumumba Patrice Lumumba, Congo’s first democratically elected leader, envisioned a free and sovereign Congo. For that, he was assassinated—with CIA coordination and Belgian complicity. A liberation dream turned martyrdom.

“The day will come when history will speak... Africa will write its own history.” —Patrice Lumumba

1965–1997: Mobutu's Western-Backed Dictatorship Mobutu Sese Seko ruled for over three decades. He was corrupt. Repressive. But loyal to Western interests. For the U.S., that was enough.

---

II. The New Colonialism: Extraction Without Benefit

Cobalt and Critical Minerals Today, the DRC supplies more than 70% of the world’s cobalt—essential for smartphones, laptops, electric vehicles. It should be one of the richest nations on Earth. Instead, it ranks among the poorest.

Why? Foreign corporations extract Congo’s wealth without reinvestment. They operate through shell companies. They avoid taxation. And they exploit labor—including children.

Local Reality Crumbling roads. Schools without supplies. Clinics without medicine. It is not a lack of resources. It is theft rebranded as globalization.

---

III. The Gaslight: “Why Don’t You Govern Properly?”

This is how the West erases its own crimes—by blaming the aftermath on the survivors.

It’s like robbing someone’s home, then asking why they are broke. What equates to a master class in colonial gaslighting. And it must stop.

Congo doesn’t lack governance. It lacks the freedom to govern without sabotage.

---

IV. Reclaiming the Narrative

What Must Change:

Global recognition of colonial and post-colonial crimes.

Corporate accountability and fair taxation.

Empowerment of Congolese leadership, not foreign interference.

Media that tells the truth, not the convenient version.

And still, the people endure. Organize. Create. Hope. Congo is not simply a victim—it is a place of resistance, brilliance, and spiritual depth the world would rather not acknowledge.

Because justice begins not with judgment—but with memory.

And if the world truly wants to see Congo rise, it must first admit how far it helped push Congo down.

---

#JusticeForCongo #ColonialAccountability #CobaltTruth #DRCUncovered #ReclaimTheNarrative

---

¿Qué le pasa al Congo? Es la pregunta equivocada: La larga sombra del colonialismo

“Ni siquiera empezamos diciendo que el rey de Bélgica creó una colonia esclavista durante 30 años. Que el gobierno de Bélgica dirigió esa colonia durante otros 40. Que la CIA asesinó a su primer líder elegido, el Sr. Lumumba, y luego instaló otra dictadura durante los siguientes 30 años. Y que cuando los extranjeros extraen su cobalto sin pagar impuestos, no reflexionamos sobre eso. Solo decimos: '¿Qué les pasa? ¿Por qué no gobiernan bien?'”

Antes de juzgar a una nación que lucha por respirar, debemos preguntarnos: ¿quién ha estado apretándole el cuello?

Esta cita no es solo poderosa—es un espejo. Y lo que refleja es una verdad fea: siglos de colonización, extracción y sabotaje, borrados de la memoria occidental pero grabados en los huesos de la República Democrática del Congo.

---

I. La Herida Histórica: Las Raíces Profundas del Colonialismo

1885–1908: La Colonia Esclavista del Rey Leopoldo II El Estado Libre del Congo se convirtió en una máquina de ganancias privadas para el rey Leopoldo II. Trabajo forzado. Mutilación. Asesinatos en masa. Se estima que 10 millones de vidas se perdieron—todo por caucho, marfil y codicia.

1908–1960: El Colonialismo Reempaquetado por Bélgica Ante la indignación global, Bélgica tomó el control “oficial”. Pero esto no fue liberación. Fue relaciones públicas. El mismo abuso continuó, disfrazado de burocracia. Sin infraestructura real. Sin empoderamiento. Solo extracción.

1961: El Asesinato de Lumumba Patrice Lumumba, el primer líder elegido democráticamente en el Congo, soñaba con una nación libre y soberana. Por eso fue asesinado—con coordinación de la CIA y complicidad belga.

“Llegará el día en que la historia hablará... África escribirá su propia historia.” —Patrice Lumumba

1965–1997: La Dictadura Apoyada por Occidente de Mobutu Mobutu Sese Seko gobernó por más de tres décadas. Era corrupto. Represivo. Pero fiel a los intereses de Occidente. Para EE.UU., eso era suficiente.

---

II. El Nuevo Colonialismo: Extracción Sin Beneficio

Cobalto y Minerales Críticos Hoy, el Congo suministra más del 70% del cobalto mundial—esencial para smartphones, laptops y autos eléctricos. Debería ser una de las naciones más ricas del planeta. En cambio, es una de las más pobres.

¿Por qué? Corporaciones extranjeras extraen la riqueza sin reinvertir. Operan mediante empresas fantasmas. Evitan impuestos. Y explotan la mano de obra—incluso infantil.

La Realidad Local Carreteras destrozadas. Escuelas sin materiales. Clínicas sin medicina. No es falta de recursos. Es robo disfrazado de globalización.

---

III. La Manipulación: “¿Por Qué No Gobiernan Bien?”

Así es como Occidente borra sus propios crímenes: culpando a las víctimas por las consecuencias.

Es como robarle a alguien y luego preguntarle por qué está en bancarrota. Una clase magistral de gaslighting colonial. Y debe terminar.

El Congo no carece de liderazgo. Carece de la libertad de liderar sin sabotaje.

---

IV. Recuperar la Narrativa

Lo Que Debe Cambiar:

Reconocimiento global de los crímenes coloniales y poscoloniales.

Responsabilidad corporativa e impuestos justos.

Empoderamiento del liderazgo congoleño, no interferencia extranjera.

Medios que cuenten la verdad, no la versión conveniente.

Y aún así, el pueblo resiste. Se organiza. Crea. Espera. El Congo no es simplemente una víctima—es un lugar de resistencia, brillantez y profundidad espiritual que el mundo prefiere ignorar.

Porque la justicia no comienza con juicio—sino con memoria.

Y si el mundo realmente quiere ver al Congo levantarse, primero debe admitir cuánto ayudó a derribarlo.

---

#JusticiaParaElCongo #ResponsabilidadColonial #VerdadDelCobalto #DRCExpuesta #RecuperarLaNarrativa

A couple of social workers from Taiwan have visited our little island recently to acquaint themselves with the situation of homelessness here.

My takeaway: information on an upcoming event in Seoul.

https://www.iiud.org/ea-icn-14th

From Agent L (a pseudonym): “This conference will explore housing policies and the situation of homeless people and migrant-workers in Japan, Korea, Hong Kong and Taiwan. It features multiple site visits and local engagement.”

---

Today a couple of church-employees showed us around a church-carpark that has been re-purposed as an overnight shelter for our homeless friends.

https://yckc.org.sg/sheltering-the-homeless-at-yck-chapel/

However these stayers – the church-employees avoid calling them “clients” – are, more often than not, emotionally damaged people, who behave in (ahem) unconventional ways, to put it mildly. Sad but true.

My takeaway is a quote: “It is easier to build strong children than to repair broken people.”

I would like to repeat the church-employees' request: “If you own a building and would like to donate it, please let us know! cheeky giggle. And we would like to invite other churches to open up their physical space for rough sleepers. Sadly many church leaders have resisted the idea.”

---

In the twinkling of an eye, I have been a volunteer at Homeless Hearts of Singapore, for about 2.5 years.

Part of the ethos I have picked up:

“Homelessness is not a problem to be solved, but people to be loved.”

“Homelessness is not a lack of housing, it is a breakdown in relationships.” (eg. divorce, and the loss of the matrimonial house).

“Homelessness is not solved by providing houses alone.” (eg. a newly-built dormitory can still feel like a suffocating cage for a so-called “rough sleeper”.)

“The truest measure lies not in our provisions to those in the margins, but in our sense of kinship with them.” (Source: Gregory Boyle, a priest who is quoting a Buddhist nun, in the book titled: “Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion”.)

I would highlight that loneliness is an adjacent or overlapping phenomenon with regards to homelessness. Academic researchers have identified a “loneliness epidemic”: a concern of public health, which harms the suffering individual in the equivalent measure of smoking 15 cigarettes a day. (this statistical figure was passed to me by word of mouth; I have not yet verified its accuracy).

Due to limits on time, I end with a gentle call to awaken us from our collective forgetfulness. We can transcend the path of anxiety and sorrow. How blessed we are to live with access to the teachers' wisdom: Thich Nhat Hanh, Thubten Chodron, Tara Brach, the 14th Dalai Lama, Maia Duerr, and Pope Francis (just to name a few).

parting shot

As Marcus Aurelius wrote (pardon the awkward translation from Greek language to English): “To her who gives and takes back all, to nature, the man who is instructed and modest says: Give what thou wilt; take back what thou wilt. And he says this not proudly, but obediently and well pleased with her.” (Meditations 10.14)

And, from the same Marcus Aurelius:

“No longer talk about the kind of man that a good man ought to be, but be such.” (Meditations 10.16)

#HomelessAdvocate

I think it’s really funny how I’m friends with so many attractive people and how turns out a few of them have some pretty big social media followings, and at the same time I’m wearing random socks, and the most cringe shit known to man. I find it almost beautiful in a way how I’m able to connect and be good friends with people that look so fundamentally different to me. I guess it’s cool how we always have more in common than you would come to think.

el cráneo de Yorick bañado de luz violeta

a caballo el atardecer entre los dedos del sueño

no te burles / no te rías será un verano caluroso