A Letter from Said to Saida Said Ahmad and Saida Zunnunova’s love and memory… eternal through history
They changed my name into numbers cold, My joy turned bitter, my pain grew bold. I don’t know if God will grant me strength, But trust me, Saida, I’ll love you at any length.
I’m not the one to blame for their deceit, Not for the lies that call pride “elite.” I’ve never been the foe they claim— Believe me, Saida, I’m still the same.
“To the land of no return”—they sent me far, No demon bound me, no cursed scar. Will I return in ten long years? Wait for me, love—hold back the tears.
To me, you were the moon and sun, You bore it all while I was gone. You loved without a word of debt, From Said to Saida—my deepest respect.
Baxtiniso Salimova Azamat qizi was born on August 29, 2004, in Zarbdor neighborhood, Guzar district, Kashkadarya region. She is currently a 4th-year student at the Faculty of Philology of Karshi State University. She is the absolute winner of the 2nd season (2025) of the “Young Readers’ League.” She is also a two-time winner of the “Smart Reader” competition organized at the regional level. She won 3rd place in the “Young Readers” competition held in honor of the “International Book Giving Day.” To date, several of her articles, poems, and stories have been published.
Coffee is a beverage that can change the person you’re sharing it with. Drinking coffee is not like drinking tea. You enjoy tea in sweet gatherings or feasts with your loved ones, closer than anyone else, your family. We open our hearts and gather without any specific reason during tea time. I’m not saying that conversations over coffee are bad. On the contrary, conversations over coffee can lead to more formal meetings or business opportunities. Most of the time, casual conversations are also good over coffee.
I had such an experience myself one day. One day, I needed to have a conversation with my friend (a girl) about work, so I suggested meeting for coffee. We went to a coffee shop and sat at table three. I ordered two coffees. After a while, as the conversation was getting interesting, our coffee arrived, and something unexpected was added to it. It was a heart-shaped foam. We were both surprised and laughed about it, and we decided to continue our conversation from where we left off.
I never thought such a thing would happen. Unexpected situations happen with coffee, in my opinion. As an example of such situations, if the above situation does not happen or if the coffee is not served unknowingly, more sugar could be added to the coffee. I like drinking coffee, and for me, this person, who has been my frequent companion in these moments, is precious. I have had many coffee conversations with them. Conversing with them is enjoyable because they give a lot of advice and show directions. They always drink coffee without sugar because they have been diagnosed with “diabetes.”
Nabijonova Madinabonu was born on 6 May 2005 year in Uzbekistan
Sean Lee is an emerging artist whose work spans drawing, photography, and cartooning, focusing on themes of stress relief and emotional expression. Sean’s art channels personal experiences, offering visual narratives that resonate with viewers seeking solace and connection. When not creating, Sean is an avid rower, having been part of a rowing team since seventh grade, where teamwork and physical discipline fuel his creativity and balance his daily life.
Jahin Claire Oh is a twelfth-grade student attending high school in San Jose, California. She enjoys coding and takes an interest in media art as a hobby. She prefers warm tones over cool tones and is generally drawn to calming imagery with naturalistic depictions. In her free time, she enjoys spending time with friends and occasionally visits local art exhibits.
He had only one day. He was thirty eight, a meager age. Poor man, he was; life passed by and stopped before he had his way.
He had to seize the day – and thwart it from flying away. And so he tried to find the day – catch its tail and grab it until it would start to suffocate.
As the clock stroke three, he went out to feel the sound of a summer day. He didn’t know what was coming, yet he had to flee from the cavern of his stuffy room; reign earth before he had to go back and return his breath to mother nature on his way.
Funny, it was. He noticed the little. He saw the ants, forming long barcodes with They were moving, eager, ground earthy more than ever. He paid attention to the azure skies, cradling clouds that made many lives. Zebras! Elephants! Giraffes! He stared, elated, though the vast expanse of the sky had always been above his eyes.
Did he miss anything in his way?
He stood to see – make sure that no images pass by, like the wind on that one lonely night. He failed to stop time, but he captured every moment – opened up a bubble to protect himself from the fast-moving day.
Fried Rice
It was all simple, when mama used to cook me fried rice. She just threw in bowls of white pebbles in the black pan – saw it jumping, dancing to the beat of life.
How do you cook so quickly, I asked. To that, she grinned and said, Son, fried rice does not require the blessing of time.
She was never afraid to change the recipe, succumbing to her little whims as ingredients caught her sight. Carrots, Potatoes, Bacon – everything she saw, she chopped and threw it into her cauldron, together with her little frights.
It’s better that way, she replied to my unasked question, as she turned around to clean the aftermath of her bloody kitchen, slightly smiling, as if she somehow knew the secret of life.
It all got too difficult, after I flew out of mama’s nest. I tried to talk to the world, break the silence, but it only responded with awkward murmurs and lies.
So, now I’ll make the world my fried rice. We’ll not talk; we’ll stare at each other like lovers on first date. I’ll just hand it a plate of fried rice, put into the shape of a heart, but we’ll both know that our lives got more simple
than it ever were.
Walking on White Snow
I’m scared to walk on white snow. I’m afraid that I’ll make footsteps with my dirty shoes. Touch what I should not touch – take what has been taken from me for a long while.
I stand by my front door and wonder how the snow maintained its beautiful, curvy figure over the long, scary night, how it never encountered the touch of a stranger who could do things that he knew were just not right.
I don’t want to leave any marks on this trail of white snow; I want to protect it and ensure that it keeps its whiteness that I so greatly miss, on some quiet night.
So, I’m scared to walk on white snow. As much as I love a winter day, I shall stay in my house, let the snow stay this way & hope that it will stay this way for a long while
Sean Lee is a high school student at an international school in South Korea with a passion for poetry and creative writing. Growing up in a multicultural environment, he finds inspiration in the intersection of different cultures, languages, and personal experiences. His poetry often explores themes of belonging, memory, and emotional introspection.
You brought me into the world with hardship, dear mother
Sleepless at nights, whenever I was in pain
I know I still trouble you even now
But, mother, I love you
You have suffered so much because of me
But unlike others, you never gave me reproach
Protecting and cherishing me until now
You care for me even when you’re in pain
Your love overflows in your beautiful heart
You always remember the good I have done
Sadly, you have suffered much from me
Forgive me, dear mother, pardon me
Dilnoza Islomova is from Turtkul district in the Republic of Karakalpakstan. She’s currently a high school student and a future poet, who started writing small poems from a young age. She has read many books and is a curious girl who never stops growing and applies herself in every field.
For today’s youth, the ocean of opportunities is wide and full: studying abroad, building innovative projects, exploring creativity, traveling… Yet paradoxically, the more opportunities exist, the harder it becomes to decide. Every door seems open, but behind which one lies our true self?
Far too often, we adopt the dreams of others as our own — the expectations of parents, the “ideal” models of society, the polished lives we see online. These can bury our real desires, until one day we find ourselves walking a path that does not belong to us.
The art of finding yourself is about listening to your inner voice, discovering your values, and following your own path — even if others do not understand. This journey may be filled with more mistakes than successes, but those mistakes shape and define us. True success is not becoming what society calls “successful,” but creating a life where you remain authentically yourself.
@Iroda_Bozorboyeva_07 Baxromovna I do not want to be remembered as “She was born, she lived, she died.”
