i’m like junkrat from riverdale i don’t fit in

car got repossessed today and in order to get it back we need $2800 within 30 days. while me and my dad will be working on getting that money, i would be eternally grateful to have a bit of help as, with everyone else, im already having a bit of trouble playing catch up with my own bills.

ill try and keep the amount updated. ill attach commission info later if you’d rather get something in return for a donation, i just want this post up now so i can hit the ground running

pp, vnmo, cshpp are all asaraver

car got repossessed today and in order to get it back we need $2800 within 30 days. while me and my dad will be working on getting that money, i would be eternally grateful to have a bit of help as, with everyone else, im already having a bit of trouble playing catch up with my own bills.

ill try and keep the amount updated. ill attach commission info later if you’d rather get something in return for a donation, i just want this post up now so i can hit the ground running

pp, vnmo, cshpp are all asaraver

"Everything collapsed… and we were left alone under the ashes."

My name is Amani, and I’m a mother of three: Mohammad (17), Moath (14), and Habiba (10). We used to live in a small home in northern Gaza. It wasn’t fancy, but it was filled with love, memories, and safety.

One day during the war, everything changed. There was a loud explosion… then screams… then silence. When the dust settled, our home was gone.

Everything we owned — clothes, family photos, Mohammad’s school books, Habiba’s favorite doll — was buried under the rubble.

We fled with nothing but the clothes on our backs. Since then, we've been living in a tent, exposed to the cold, the heat, the fear, and the hunger.

💔 “Mom, when will we go back home?” Mohammad asked me.

I have no answer… because there is no home to return to.

Mohammad, at 17, should be finishing school, but he had to stop because we can't afford even a notebook.

Moath, 14, is deeply traumatized. He barely sleeps at night.

Habiba, only 10, has forgotten what it feels like to sleep in a real bed.

💢 Life became a daily struggle:

We often sleep hungry.

There's no medicine when my children get sick.

I have no job, no support, and no future in sight.

All I have now… is my voice.

🙏 Please, help us survive.

We don’t ask for much — only for the chance to live with dignity.

Your donation — no matter how small — could:

Provide food, blankets, or clean water.

Help Mohammad return to school.

Give Habiba a reason to smile again.

🕊️ Save Amani and her children

You can help rebuild a life destroyed by war. Your kindness can bring hope to a family lost in the darkness.

Please donate. Please share. Please don’t look away.

I often wonder if this is why you so commonly see the sentiment that we are in an era of uniquely bad literature, or at least that the fact that most books don't have artistic aspirations and are not aiming to be anything other than mindless entertainment is new. In fact what's new is the idea that everything is worth preserving (and also the internet making it easier to preserve it). The dumb artistically unambitious trash books of the past have survived only sporadically, because people thought of them as literally disposable.