A few reflections on friendship, growing older, and the strange comfort of finding people who make the world feel less heavy. Sometimes that alone can change everything.
I wrote this after the killing of my friend Wesam Qaid.
I wrote it for him, and perhaps also for myself. It is not easy to write about grief while anger is still moving inside it.
For a friend, a mentor, and one of the people Yemen needed most.
Not all bonds are meant to last, but the ones that do are rarely accidental. This is about what holds them together in a time that rewards letting go.
A look at what happens when work stops being a means and slowly becomes the thing that consumes you. About systems that keep running, and people who are expected to do the same.
A short reflection on how life doesn’t always reward what we were taught to believe in, and how values like kindness, honesty, and hard work can sometimes work against us.
I can’t seem to resist walking into cemeteries whenever I pass by one in a new city or country. To me, they feel like silent mirrors reflecting the culture of a people: where do they bury their dead, and how? How do they say goodbye? Do they write on their graves? Do they believe in an afterlife? Do they preserve names with sculptures and carvings—or do they cremate their dead, or quietly return them to the soil with no gravestones or elaborate structures?
I recently listened to a recorded conversation between a father and son. The son was asking long-held questions and voicing old disappointments. The father admitted his shortcomings, but had no answers. It felt like he’d lost something and didn’t know how to get it back. The moment shook me. Maybe because I deeply love my father, or maybe because I’m a father myself, and I worry that one day my son will question me over things I never intended to overlook. He won’t know how many nights I stayed awake thinking about him, worrying about what he’s going through or what he might face...
One of the joys of travel is staying in someone else’s home, a stranger’s life briefly opened up to you like a book. In my experience, especially with older hosts, privacy isn’t a big concern. Their homes reveal so much: tastes, habits, memories, and they quietly invite you to observe and connect...
Years ago, I had a conversation with a Dutch journalist about migrants fleeing war zones and the challenges many of them face when trying to start a new life in a foreign country. She said something I never forgot:
“I have no problem cleaning bathrooms if I have to, as long as it covers my basic needs.”
She said it calmly and confidently, as if stating an obvious fact not worth pausing over.
Although our conversation was about a specific situation, I see it now as an example that applies to many other aspects of life...
I believe in friendship, even despite the disappointments that may come with it. I don’t deny that there’s an element of chance in how friendships form. They often begin at intersections we don’t choose. But there’s also a hidden kind of attraction. What your spirit sends out into the world is what you get back, in some way, even from people you never expected.
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When was the last time you really listened to the noise? To the sounds of passersby, to the chatter in public spaces, quietly, attentively, and without distraction?
In this set of notes, I shared small pieces, including a thought on surrendering to life’s current, an encounter that rekindled energy, a story passed between friends, and a photograph that carried a whole history. They may seem like little things, yet each held much more: reminders of resilience, connection, and what truly endures.
I don't really know what to write about or how to describe in details how magnificent and unbelievable is the island and the really kind people there.
A set of logos I created with my team at Snono Design from 2002 to 2011
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