People say cats don’t care. That they’re cold. Unattached. But Yabraq? Yabraq knew everything. She knew Farhan intellectualized his feelings until they disappeared. She knew Nawrass needed control to feel safe, even when it hurt others. And still, she loved them. In her own way. Through silence. Through proximity. Through selective cuddles and strategic distance. She didn’t pick sides. She outlived them both — emotionally, spiritually, and ideologically.

Another boss, who was also a teacher I respected, was consumed with rage over the regime’s crimes. I tried to calm him down. Told him not to take risks. That he had a family to think about. He looked at me, stunned. Your father’s been in prison since 1996, he said. You, of all people, should understand injustice.

“You were away for 20 years. You can’t expect your kids to just be there for you now. They’ve all moved on. They live in different countries, have responsibilities, and have become different people.”

I’m not entirely sure what this space is yet. It's not a fully curated portfolio. It's not a personal blog in the traditional sense. And it's definitely not some kind of polished, evergreen branding statement. At least, not right now.