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Friendly Addiction - Culture Is Not Tradition — It Means Showing Up

Don’t talk culture to me when you don’t have the emotional quotient that goes with it. When people speak about culture, they often point to traditions, religion, heritage, or social identity. But to me, culture is something far deeper than rituals or backgrounds. Culture is the act of showing up. It is the willingness to be present when no one else is there — when trauma is difficult to process, when loss creates an endless vacuum, when grief has the capacity to swallow the life out of someone. Culture reveals itself in the moments when life is at its most fragile. After death. After accidents. At funerals. During interventions. During rehabilitation. After emotional breakdowns. After panic attacks. After meltdowns. In such moments, human beings do not need lectures or explanations. They need presence. Souls need connection to face the unknown. Yet often people confuse culture with very different things. They measure culture by professional achievements, by the titles they hold ...

Empty Corridors

Footsteps getting louder…
Screeching on wet floors..
While I run…
To hide ….
Giggle echoed..
As I barge into..
The empty corridors.
They come after you…
And will not go home without you…
Without telling what happened..
Without yelling abusive apprehensions.
Giving away their absolute intentions…
As they seldom walk stepping onto your toes..
Laughing as you gather around those empty corridors..
Elevator opens…
Sipping bitter coffee ..
Being yelled at in the parking lot..
Gobbled up the snort.
As bitter it can get…
And yet..
Standing alone …
Eyes trying to blend into the empty corridors.
A smile…
A grin..
Taking back their faces..
That did just reach my chin.
While choices run thin..
I grab a corner …
Showing my honor towards empathy forsaken.
Eyes looking away…
Trouble heading my way..
Strange as it gets bleak.
As I start stumbling over those empty corridors.
A picture..
Of varied stature..
That isn’t going to break..
Stares at me wide awake…
The friends that chased me…
Standing beside me..
While I giggle again..
Calling my name ..
A distant voice getting louder ..
Rooted into these empty corridors.
Are the reflections that never pretends..
Or gets older.

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