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Elle
a day ago
- Elle
Nina Garcia's Insider Guide Is Here—Sign Up Now
No matter where you are—from the Italian coastline to the Caribbean Islands or the historic cities of Peru—exploring the culture like a seasoned insider is always the way to go. As ELLE's editor-in-chief, Nina Garcia has loved getting to travel the world and collecting all the best local secrets. Now she wants to share them with you. Launching June 17, Nina Garcia's Insider Guide invites you to discover the best and the most stylish side of every travel destination, starting with a city close to her own heart: Cartagena, Colombia. 'Walking the streets, you get a familiar yet nostalgic feeling, as if you've entered the pages of a Gabriel García Márquez novel,' she writes. 'Even after many visits, there's always a sense of discovery.' With her guidance, you'll find the ultimate recommendations for wandering down bustling alleys, finding the most fashionable shops, securing a reservation for authentic food, and knowing where to show up without one, all like a true local. Sign up here to receive Nina Garcia's Insider Guide. Watch your inbox for a new installment of one-of-a-kind travel tips each month—and stay tuned for more ELLE newsletter updates.
Resala Post
26-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Resala Post
Delving into 'Vergando' The Heartbeat of Latin American Culture
In the vast, colorful, and passionately expressive landscape of Latin American culture, certain words and expressions emerge that do more than merely convey meaning — they embody identity, emotion, and heritage. One such word, rich with texture and regional resonance, is 'Vergando.' Though not commonly found in formal linguistic references or textbooks, 'Vergando' has, in various regions and cultural contexts, become an organic representation of transformation, endurance, and expressive defiance — values deeply embedded in Latin America's history and soul. To understand 'Vergando' is to embark on a journey into the nuanced heart of Latin American culture. It is to listen to the whispered folklore in rural villages, feel the resistance in street art and protest songs, and decode the soul of a continent that has long embraced both the beauty and pain of life with unflinching grace. This exploration will uncover the linguistic roots, cultural manifestations, artistic representations, and social significance of 'Vergando' — a term that, while elusive in formal dictionaries, pulses through Latin American life as a true cultural heartbeat. I. The Etymological Roots of 'Vergando' At first glance, 'Vergando' appears to be a gerund form of the Spanish verb 'vergar.' Traditionally, vergar means 'to bend' or 'to yield.' In Spanish grammar, the suffix -ando signifies an action in progress — thus, vergando translates literally to 'bending' or 'yielding.' But in the cultural context of Latin America, 'Vergando' has evolved into something more profound than a verb. It implies not just a physical act, but a philosophical and emotional posture — the way people, communities, and cultures bend without breaking, adapting to hardship while retaining spirit and dignity. This interpretation finds its roots not only in the Spanish language but also in the shared experiences of colonization, resistance, adaptation, and renewal that characterize Latin American history. II. Vergando as a Metaphor for Cultural Resilience Throughout centuries of upheaval — from European colonization to dictatorship, economic crises, and social inequality — Latin America has had to bend, often painfully, under the weight of external pressures. Yet it has not broken. In this way, 'Vergando' becomes a metaphor for the spirit of survival. Just as a tree in a storm bends to avoid snapping, Latin American societies have endured by adapting: preserving indigenous traditions under colonial rule, developing syncretic religions blending Catholic and native beliefs, and expressing dissent through coded artistic forms. This cultural elasticity, this creative and dignified yielding, is at the core of what it means to be 'vergando.' III. Artistic Representations of 'Vergando' 1. Literature In Latin American literature, themes of resistance and transformation — the essence of 'Vergando' — are omnipresent. Works like One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez, or The Death of Artemio Cruz by Carlos Fuentes, depict individuals and societies bending under the pressure of time, politics, and personal guilt. Poets like Pablo Neruda and César Vallejo write about pain and revolution with words that, though not explicitly saying 'vergando,' evoke its spirit: an aching resilience that refuses to surrender completely. 2. Music From the poignant ballads of Mercedes Sosa to the fiery salsa of Rubén Blades, Latin American music is suffused with the rhythms of 'Vergando.' Take Sosa's interpretation of 'Solo le pido a Dios' — a prayer of hope and resistance sung in the soft yet defiant voice of someone who has bent under grief but still sings. Reggaeton and hip-hop artists in urban Latin America also embody 'Vergando' in their lyrics, often narrating life in neighborhoods marred by violence or poverty, yet pulsing with pride and creativity. 3. Visual Arts The murals of Diego Rivera or the surreal pain of Frida Kahlo's paintings are vivid visual representations of 'Vergando.' They show bodies and communities that have endured oppression, disease, and heartbreak, yet persist through expression. Street art across Latin American cities — from the favelas of Rio de Janeiro to the alleys of Buenos Aires — is perhaps the most raw and immediate display of this concept. Each mural or graffiti tag is a declaration: 'We are here. We are enduring. We are creating.' IV. 'Vergando' in Ritual and Tradition The cultural rituals of Latin America, many inherited through generations, often embody the act of 'Vergando.' Consider: The Day of the Dead (Día de los Muertos) in Mexico: A celebration of life in the face of death, honoring ancestors with altars, marigolds, and skull-shaped candies. It's an annual act of remembering and bending grief into joy. Candomblé and Santería , Afro-Latin religions in Brazil and the Caribbean, which merge Catholic saints with African deities. These religions are literal examples of spiritual vergando , merging identities while preserving essence. Carnival, with its explosive costumes, dances, and masks, reflects communities yielding to the chaos of life through controlled release, honoring freedom through structure. V. The Role of Language: Code-Switching and Oral Histories In Latin America, language is fluid. Spanish and Portuguese dominate, but indigenous languages — Quechua, Aymara, Guaraní, Nahuatl, and others — persist, woven into everyday speech in rural and urban areas alike. This multilingual dynamic itself is an act of 'Vergando.' Communities adjust to dominant tongues for survival, but still whisper their truths in ancestral languages, refusing complete erasure. Oral storytelling, a powerful cultural practice in many regions, also embodies 'Vergando.' These stories are living, evolving — bent by time, adjusted for new audiences, but grounded in cultural truth. VI. Social Movements: Vergando as Strategy and Strength Social and political movements in Latin America often reflect the dynamic of 'Vergando.' Whether it's the Zapatista uprising in Chiapas, feminist movements like Ni Una Menos , or indigenous land-rights protests in the Amazon, these movements demonstrate strategic flexibility in the face of oppressive systems. 'Vergando' here becomes tactical: adapting methods, using digital platforms for resistance, or embracing international solidarity while preserving local identity. Unlike brute confrontation, 'Vergando' allows for continuity. It is resilience without rigidity, activism with cultural intelligence. VII. Migration: Carrying 'Vergando' Across Borders Millions of Latin Americans have migrated — voluntarily or by necessity — carrying their culture across continents. In these diaspora communities, 'Vergando' is visible in the preservation of food, festivals, and language even while adapting to new homelands. Latino communities in the U.S., Europe, and elsewhere create hybrid identities that reflect both yielding to new contexts and holding firm to old traditions. Children of migrants, often raised bilingually, may straddle identities, speaking Spanglish or Portuñol, eating tacos alongside burgers, celebrating Christmas with both Santa and El Niño Dios . This is 'Vergando' as survival and celebration. VIII. Modern Media and the Digital Vergando In the age of social media and globalization, 'Vergando' takes new forms. TikTok creators, YouTubers, and Instagram influencers across Latin America create content that blends global aesthetics with regional culture. From viral dances rooted in traditional forms to cooking videos that show abuelita's recipes with a modern twist, digital Latin America is 'vergando' before our eyes: absorbing trends, bending formats, but never losing soul. This generational evolution preserves cultural identity while allowing innovation — a perfect embodiment of modern 'Vergando.' IX. Critiques and Controversies: The Limits of Vergando While 'Vergando' is often framed positively as adaptability, it's worth noting that constant bending can come at a cost. There is a growing discourse among Latin American intellectuals and activists that resilience — when romanticized — can lead to exploitation. Some argue that societies shouldn't always have to adapt; systems must also change. For example, praising communities for 'making do' in poverty can overlook structural injustice. The question becomes: when does bending become enabling? How do we balance cultural endurance with demands for change? This tension, too, is part of 'Vergando' — a living, contested practice. Conclusion: The Legacy and Future of 'Vergando' 'Vergando' is not just a word; it is a worldview. It is the soft power of a culture that has endured — through invasion, slavery, revolution, and neoliberalism — and continues to dance, sing, protest, and create. It teaches us that there is strength in yielding when necessary, in adapting without losing oneself. It reminds us that culture is not static but alive, bending toward the future while rooted in the past. As Latin America continues to evolve — facing climate crises, political shifts, and technological disruption — the spirit of 'Vergando' will remain central. It will manifest in how stories are told, how traditions are preserved, and how new generations rise, rooted but not rigid. So next time you see a mural in Medellín, hear a protest song in Santiago, taste mole in Oaxaca, or watch a TikTok remixing cumbia and reggaeton — remember: you are witnessing 'Vergando.'
BBC News
18-05-2025
- Politics
- BBC News
The world's most dangerous country for trade unionists
In July last year, Jesús Cometa was shot at as he was driving through the Cauca Valley in southwest on motorbikes pulled up alongside his car and sprayed it with bullets. Mr Cometa escaped uninjured but his bodyguard was hit."He still has a bullet lodged in his chest," he Cometa is one of thousands of trade unionists who have been attacked in recent years in Colombia which, by some measurements, is the most dangerous place in the world for organised Cauca Valley is home to the country's sugar industry, and he is a local representative of Sintrainagro, Colombia's largest agricultural trade union."When you take on these roles in the union, you lose your social life," Mr Cometa says. "You can't just go and hang out in a crowded bar, or on a street corner, because you never know when you might be targeted."Your family suffers too because they know that they're also targets." This is a problem with a long his ground-breaking novel, One Hundred Years of Solitude, Colombia's Nobel Prize-winning writer Gabriel García Márquez famously highlighted the massacre of workers on banana plantations in the country in the Labour Ministry says that since the early 1970s, well over 3,000 trade unionists have been murdered in even though the nation is more peaceful than it once was, the attacks continue."For many years now already, unfortunately, Colombia is the deadliest country in the world for trade unionists and for trade union work," says Luc Triangle, general secretary of the International Trade Union Confederation (ITUC), a global umbrella organization based in year the ITUC publishes a survey of the atrocities carried out against trade unionists around the world. Its most recent edition covers the year to the end of March found that in those 12 months, 22 trade unionists were killed for their activism around the world. Eleven of them were murdered in Colombia."Generally, these are targeted murders," Mr Triangle says. "They know what they are doing. They know who they want to murder."It's not targeting the big bosses of the trade unions or the leaders. They are targeting in small villages people that are doing active trade union work."Between 2020 and 2023, we recorded 45 murders in Colombia. In 2022, 29 murders. It's less violent than it once was, but it's still very violent, certainly if you compare it with other countries." Why is this happening?Fabio Arias, the head of Colombia's largest trade union federation, the CUT, says it is all part of Colombia's long and complex civil conflict, which pitted left-wing rebel groups against right-wing paramilitaries, drug traffickers and the Colombian state, and which still rumbles on in some parts of the country."The trade union movement has always been linked to the parties of the left and unfortunately the many right-wing governments we've had in Colombia have always claimed that anyone who is a leftist is a guerrilla, a terrorist," Mr Arias says."And once you've established that, then people feel justified in attacking them."He says the attacks on workers are also linked to Colombia's illegal economies, notably the cocaine trade and illegal mining."If you look at where these attacks are happening, it's in the departments of Cauca, Nariño, Putumayo, Arauca, Norte de Santander and Caquetá, because that's where the biggest coca plantations are, and where the illegal mining is." It is not clear who is carrying out these killings and who is ordering them. Some trade unionists blame the private sector, saying businesses, desperate to stifle any attempt by workers to organize, are paying armed groups to carry out these point to the fact that threats and attacks tend to spike at times when businesses and unions are in wage as many of the attacks go unpunished, it is difficult to know who exactly is to blame."In the Cauca Valley there are so many different armed groups you never really know who's behind the attacks, who's carrying them out, who's ordering them," says Zenón Escobar, another sugar cane worker and local representative of threats in the Cauca Valley are not limited to the sugar industry."In 2007, I was in a van, and guys drew up next to us on a motorbike and asked for me, and then opened fire," recalls Jimmy Núñez, the leader of a union that represents street traders in the regional capital Cali."My colleague who was sitting next to me was killed, and my wife was injured. In 2010 they attacked me again, on the road between Cauca and Cali."They opened fire on my car. In 2012 we were attacked in a shopping centre in Cali and one of us was killed. And in 2013 my family had to leave Cauca due to threats."In this country social leaders and trade union leaders are killed every day." The government says it is doing what it can to protect trade unionists. Colombia's president, Gustavo Petro, heads a left-wing administration that is broadly sympathetic to the country's 2023, it took a step towards redressing the past by formally recognizing the trade union movement – collectively, and for the first time – as a victim of Colombia's conflict. That gives victims a greater chance of having their cases investigated."We consider this as an important step to recognize the violence against trade unionists in Colombia, which was not the case before," says Luc Triangle of the ITUC. He also says foreign companies with operations in Colombia must do more."If I were the CEO of a multinational, I would question my activities in Colombia," he says."There is a huge responsibility for multinational companies. They cannot have a nice code of conduct, and at the same time remain silent when trade unionists are killed."That's not acceptable. Global companies and foreign investors in Colombia must step up."Additional reporting by Immie Rhodes.
New York Times
11-03-2025
- Entertainment
- New York Times
Netflix Is Gobbling Up World Literature. What Could Go Wrong?
I'm thinking of a piece of filmed entertainment. It was adapted from a famous, internationally significant novel. It was blessed with lavish budgets, accomplished directors, ambitious visual design. A premiere was announced, ads were purchased, trailers were released — and then, one day, it was dumped onto a streaming service and almost immediately forgotten. Can you guess which one I'm thinking of? It could be 'Pachinko,' or 'The Fall of the House of Usher,' or 'The Wheel of Time,' or any number of others. This past December, Netflix released over eight hours of television adapting somewhat less than half of Gabriel García Márquez's 1967 classic, 'One Hundred Years of Solitude.' It has, in fact, been Hoovering up the rights to major novels from around the world, spending millions to transform them into prestige programming. In the last year alone, there has been a film adaptation of Juan Rulfo's novel 'Pedro Paramo' (from Mexico), a mini-series of Giuseppe Tomasi Di Lampedusa's 1950s novel 'The Leopard' (from Italy) and the first season of a version of Liu Cixin's 'The Three-Body Problem' (from China), which reportedly cost around $160 million to make. News that this was happening to 'One Hundred Years of Solitude' might have shocked Márquez. He wrote for the movies and gave his blessing to multiple adaptations of his work, but the great Colombian writer never did sell the rights to 'Solitude.' He thought its story, which follows the Buendia family over a century of history in the fictional city Macondo, would take 100 hours to tell properly; he also insisted it be filmed in Spanish. After his death in 2014, his widow held to these wishes; it was only in 2019, after the couple's sons had become more involved in the estate, that Netflix acquired the rights. Márquez's heirs would be executive producers. They negotiated for the show to be made in Colombia, and in Spanish. When the series was announced, though, Netflix sounded a more global note: 'We know our members around the world love watching Spanish-language films and series,' said its vice president for Spanish-language programming. Netflix is available in more than 190 countries, and once a piece of original content enters its library — whether a Korean drama or a Latin American telenovela — it can be viewed most anywhere. The company seems to have pursued 'Solitude' as an iteration of hits like 'The Crown,' 'Squid Game' and 'Money Heist': local productions that captivate international audiences through a combination of regional specificity and broad televisual legibility. The book is a natural candidate. It offers an imaginative evocation of Colombian history, rife with characters and love affairs and civil wars; it is also one of the best-known Spanish-language novels in the world, having sold some 50 million copies across nearly four dozen translations. Like 'The Leopard' and 'Pedro Paramo,' it has both national pedigree and international reputation, its title familiar enough to make viewers around the world pause over the Netflix tile. It is, in other words, valuable I.P. And that means it must now conform to the expectations of modern streaming: It must be adapted for frictionless international content consumption. Netflix's 'Solitude' begins where the novel ends — in Macondo's future, with the Buendia family's house overgrown with trees. Then it flashes backward, stopping along the way to touch on the book's opening line: 'Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendia was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice.' In the novel, this line leads into a series of digressions — about wandering peddlers, and then the family patriarch's zeal for new technology, and then his futile search for the coast, which leads to the discovery of a Spanish galleon mysteriously marooned deep in the interior — and only then, after most of a chapter, do we reach Aureliano's encounter with the ice; it's a masterful opening, instructing the reader on how to approach the novel's wealth of diversions. In the show, that famous line is simply narrated atop an image of a middle-aged Aureliano staring stonily at the camera, before the show leaps back in time to tell its largely linear story. Márquez's words resound, literally, throughout, serving as narration for the more prosaic images on the screen. You sense an insecurity on the show's part. It is handsome, with sets designed by cinema veterans and carefully distressed period clothing. But the images it offers are either superficial depictions of events Márquez did not need to detail, or else they are rendered superfluous by Márquez's text being read atop them. The show's persistent literalism meshes oddly with the magic of the material. In the third episode, a girl called Rebeca arrives at the Buendia household carrying the bones of her parents in a canvas sack. Márquez wrote that the sack 'followed them everywhere with its dull rattle' — blending metaphor and reality, leaving ambiguous whether the bones moved on their own or nagged at the Buendias' minds. Netflix's 'Solitude' opts to depict this literally, rolling a canvas bag around in the background like a Mos Eisley cantina droid. Other moments deploy the stock language of fantasy and horror to illuminate premonitions and nightmares, reducing the novel's poetry to special effects. It seems the aim, in Netflix's world, is to put the text onscreen in a way that is maximally legible, with none of the experimentation that might allow an adaptation to become an autonomous work of art. The same feels true of its 'Pedro Paramo.' This is what it takes for an expensive adaptation of a best seller by a Nobel Prize winner to wind up laid out for you on a tile alongside choices like 'Hot Frosty' or 'A Nonsense Christmas with Sabrina Carpenter.' You can even disregard Márquez's wish about language: The platform's spotty dubbing lets you watch in English, French, German, Hungarian or Japanese, among others. Where once an adaptation of a major novel might have arrived with some fanfare, the process here seems rote and mechanical, simply dropping the work into a stream of interchangeable content based on other old things, from video games to tabloid crimes. As Netflix's founder, Reed Hastings, has said, the company's main competition is sleep; the point is to fill the platform's library with an endless quantity of easily consumable content. Márquez may have anticipated even this. In 'Solitude,' Rebeca's arrival brings with it a plague of insomnia that infects the entire town. At first, people are overjoyed to lose 'the useless habit of sleeping.' Yet, without access to sleep or dreams, they begin to forget words and memories and basic truths about the world. They mark every object in town, from tables to cows to banana trees, with increasingly detailed signs explaining their names, uses and meanings. Hollywood has spent a good century remaking important literature, and I am hardly the first to argue that 'the book was better.' But these adaptations suggest something more expansive at work. Thanks to the scale of Netflix's viewership and its surveillance trove of subscriber data, the company is starting to centralize the world's moving images under a single umbrella; it is creating a platform where everything has to stream together well, playing to everyone everywhere. Márquez's book achieved such global success because its sensibility was specific. On TV, it is one of many shows that seem to have been reverse-engineered from the needs of its parent company; it resembles the other things on Netflix more than it resembles anything in Márquez. Its story is dissolved into a world of content which exists, entirely, as its own description — a sign on a tile representing something else altogether.
Express Tribune
02-03-2025
- Entertainment
- Express Tribune
A surrealist critique of society
Influenced by artistic freedom, Mazharul Islam's creative experiments grant him a unique and elevated place in Urdu literature, hence it wouldn't be wrong to say that he is the "manifest sun" of Urdu literature. His writings prominently feature abstraction, interior monologue, unconventional narrative techniques, and a strong symbolic and allegorical style. From his first short story collection Ghorron Ke Sheher Mein Akela Aadmi (A Lonely Man in the City of Horses) to his latest novel Zindagi Ne Murr Kar Shaitan Ke Qatil Ko Dekha Aur Muskurai (Life Turned, Looked at the Devil's Killer, and Smiled), he has continuously captivated readers with his magical prose. In his stories and novels, Mazharul Islam creates a world that is real and surreal at the same time, which comes across as an enigmatic and meaningful realm. Such literary audacity in fiction is a hallmark of Mazharul Islam, whose newly published novel is another brilliant example of his storytelling prowess and philosophical depth. Even while existing in a literary world shaped by writers such as Gabriel García Márquez, Isabel Allende, Franz Kafka, Haruki Murakami, Alice Hoffman, and Jorge Luis Borges, Mazharul Islam has sculpted his own unique style like a master craftsman. His vast reading, keen observation, deep thought, and boundless imagination have played a vital role in shaping his literary identity. The themes and characters in Mazharul Islam's stories are not purely imaginary. As they emerge from the everyday people and their lives around us, his imaginative strength transforms these characters into magical realism. His poetic prose holds the depth of a mesmerising gaze. Someone once said, 'Prose walks, while poetry dances,' but in the case of Mazharul Islam, his prose performs a spiritual dance, like the whirling dervishes of Konya. You will not find such beautiful metaphors and similes in Urdu novels elsewhere. Just as elderly women used to traditionally weave intricate quilts with pieces of colourful fabric, Mazharul Islam spreads countless rainbow-like hues on the canvas of his imagination, completely enchanting his readers. His new novel, Zindagi Ne Murr Kar Shaitan Ke Qatil Ko Dekha Aur Muskurai, is yet another manifestation of his magical storytelling. Not only is its title unique (as all his book titles tend to be), its theme, style, and allegorical depth also make it significant. Like his other writings, this novel is rich in symbols and metaphors. Words such as "life," "Satan," "killer," and "smile" are not used in their literal sense but in a deeply symbolic context. He considers himself a surrealist, and surrealism is an essential element of his style. At its core, the novel critiques the decline of societal values in a world where truth-seeking has become a distant dream, where deceit, lies, and fraud dominate, and where greed for power and control has completely stripped people of their moral conscience, leaving behind their hollow souls. This is the bitter reality of our society: deception, betrayal, hatred, dishonesty, and disloyalty have seeped into our social fabric. From the highest corridors of power to the judiciary, bureaucracy, and media, every sector of life has been morally corrupted. Symbolically, he refers to this as the "satanic cycle." This novel is an attempt to rescue society's oppressed, impoverished, and subjugated from this "satanic cycle"—to preserve the values and traditions that are slipping away like sand through our fingers. Through this novel, he contrasts life before and after the rise of this cycle — when there was sincerity, pure and selfless love, moral integrity, beauty, romance, and passion. Life was enchanting. But then, greed, power, and control turned brothers against each other. His novel serves as a powerful outcry against this exploitative system. This is the essence of magical realism — where the subject matter is rooted in reality but infused with fantasy and mystical elements. Like his previous works, this novel also offers glimpses of beautiful past memories. Our tragedy is that we have forgotten our past, and those who forget their past are also forgotten by the future. Mazharul Islam emphasises through his writing that these cherished ideals, traditions, sincerity, and pure love are our shared heritage, and turning away from them means surrendering to the satanic cycle, from which there is no escape. This novel reflects on love, death, loneliness, and even spirituality, just like his previous works. Although he does not oppose science and modern technology, he does not entirely agree with their effects either. For example, he stayed away from mobile phones for a long time because he believed that the romance of writing letters could never be replaced by mobile communication. Interestingly, that is the reason why he frequently mentions postmen with deep affection and nostalgia in his stories. He has an eternal love for museums, antique clocks, books, libraries, and birds — topics that appear repeatedly in his writings. This novel, too, contains a touching narrative about these elements. He even writes about an old museum of abandoned letters — letters that never reached their intended destinations. This is almost like a sorrowful declaration of the end of a great tradition, for there will no longer be letters, and no more postmen in khaki uniforms ringing their cycle bells. Mazharul Islam is a lamenter of the rapidly disappearing traditions of society. The Alpha generation of today has no knowledge of cobblers, postmen, or potters — how they lived, worked and contributed to the society. They have no idea how perfumers extracted essence for their fragrances. Perhaps even the tales of messenger pigeons seem unreal to them today, but in reality, the famous war pigeon "Cher Ami" is still preserved in a museum in America. This pigeon saved countless lives during World War I at the cost of its own. Overall, Mazharul Islam's novel raises profound questions about human moral decline, the battle between good and evil, and social injustices. It is a work that simultaneously engages the reader on intellectual, psychological, and allegorical levels. While it may be challenging for the casual reader, it is a masterpiece for those interested in modernist and philosophical literature. It delves into human psychology, ethics, social decay, and existential crises, leading the reader beyond a conventional narrative into a world of intellectual and abstract exploration, where reality and imagination merge seamlessly. Ashfaq Azar is a freelance contributor All facts and information are the sole responsibility of the writer
