Cuba is rhythm you can walk to. In Havana, classic cars and salsa steps painted the street. Balconies bloomed with music and linen. Everywhere, someone laughed like they meant it. I ate ropa vieja in a kitchen without power. It still tasted like celebration. I opened ?????? in a plaza, but Wi-Fi was scarce. So I shared stories face-to-face. A man h

Jamaica sings even in silence. From Kingston to Negril, reggae rolled like thunderclouds. I swam in turquoise coves, drank fresh coconut under palm trees, and watched a Rasta elder braid joy into children’s hair. In a hillside village, we danced to drums until the moon blinked. A woman sold me patties with a wink. She said, “This is more than f

It was late in the broadcast. Final event of the final day. And yet — no one turned off the TV. Because something was about to happen. Something big. And the whole world felt it. You could hear it in the silence. See it in the stillness of millions leaning toward screens. An entire planet, holding its breath, for one performance. The gymnast

Before the flights. Before the cameras. Before the opening ceremony — They sat down, opened a notebook, and began to write. “To myself,” the letter began. “To the version of me that’s about to live a dream.” They wrote about how scared they were. How proud. How much they missed home already. They wrote to remember. Not the medals �

Some of us bought Bitcoin to get rich. Some of us bought it because we didn’t know what else to believe in. And others — we bought it because it felt like something solid in a world where everything else felt temporary. This is our story. I come from a family where money meant stress. It was whispered about behind closed doors. Fought over in