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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 Basket

All she had was an empty basket..
She could fill it with stones..
Or fill it with bones..
But she wanted to fill it with ..
All the thing that she owns .
Looking up to the stars..
And then her empty basket.
Stood falling all over..
From an empty casket.
Voices traveling through thin air.
She could feel the chilly tear.
And then as a thread crumpled from her dress.
Through the winds she tread for a bread in her basket.
There were few crumbs..
As she closely brushed with her thumb.
Her skin went thin..
While tasting curry dripping up to her chin.
Dreaming was she with open eyes..
Probably her face would now chase away flies.
Laughing as she walked past a glass door..
A girl licked an ice cream which she couldn’t ignore.
She did have a half bread from an apple store..
Tugged it out did someone just shout her name.
Whoever it was she wished for a family to claim.
From the ice cream store marched the girl..
All over the sidewalk an essence did twirl.
Stopped while peeping at her basket..
She ate her bread and smiled as she hid it away.
*dedicated to the little ones who go hungry to bed , life is all but a struggle for the tiniest bread.

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