THE INVISIBLE THREAT: HOW POLLUTED AIR IS DAMAGING OUR LUNGS

We can live weeks without food and days without water, but only minutes without air. Yet the air we depend on is increasingly poisoned. According to the World Health Organization, nearly the entire global population breathes air that exceeds its recommended limits, and the lungs pay the first price.

What are we actually inhaling?

The most dangerous culprit is PM2.5: microscopic particles, about thirty times thinner than a human hair, released by car exhaust, coal and wood burning, construction and factories. Alongside them come nitrogen dioxide from traffic and ozone formed in sunlight. Larger dust is trapped in the nose and throat, but PM2.5 slips past these defenses and travels deep into the lungs, reaching the tiny air sacs where oxygen enters the blood.

What happens inside the body?

Once there, these particles trigger inflammation and oxidative stress. The airways gradually lose their ability to clear mucus and fight germs. The result is a lung that is more fragile, more infection-prone and slower to recover.

The diseases behind the numbers

Polluted air is linked to more frequent asthma attacks, chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD), bronchitis and pneumonia. The International Agency for Research on Cancer classifies outdoor air pollution as carcinogenic to humans, and it can raise the risk of lung cancer even in people who have never smoked.

Who suffers most?

Children, whose lungs are still developing, are especially vulnerable, along with older adults, pregnant women and people with existing heart or lung conditions. Those living near busy roads or working outdoors breathe even more of the damage.

What can be done?

Real change requires cleaner transport, cleaner heating, stricter industrial controls and more green space in cities. Individuals are not powerless either: check daily air-quality reports, avoid outdoor exercise on smoggy days, keep windows closed during peak pollution and use a well-fitted N95 or FFP2 mask when needed.

Clean air should not be a privilege of the lucky. It is a basic condition of health, and every breath we protect today is an investment in the years ahead.

G‘aniyeva Muslima G‘ofurovna was born on May 14, 2009, in Denov district, Surkhandarya region, Uzbekistan. She is currently an 11th-grade student who can communicate fluently in two languages. From an early age, she has been an inquisitive and ambitious girl with a strong thirst for knowledge and a passion for learning.

Her greatest ambition is to become a highly qualified pharmacist in the future. With determination, curiosity, and a strong desire to achieve her dreams, she continuously seeks new knowledge and opportunities for self-development. Muslima believes that success comes through persistent effort, dedication, and lifelong learning. She continues to move forward confidently toward her goals, striving to turn her dreams into reality.

Press Repeat

Given Twice

“How are you?”

“Work is interesting right now (interesting is a synonym for comical tragedy). I’ve got a new EA and CFO role I’m

Trying to build on the fly, layered over 50-100 children wearing adult suits. These adults appear like time has shaped them into something solid, but they are squishy, misshapen, unconscious over-ripened adolescent self important creatures that subversively conspire for sclerotic atrophy to feed the evil system they’ve grown to hate but love the predictability of and quietly enjoy the sick ways they have found to enrich themselves within it.

People

Aging mother is an interesting side job.

Orchestrating a few Reno projects simultaneously.

My dogs bleeding all

Over my house. The other one a 200lb Hercules that’s lost 99% of his IQ in the process. My perfect little dojo is probably soaked and redolent with the odor of dog sex. Me screaming some strange paternal chastity over the rim of a coffee cup from my desk. Where I’ve been entrenched in some form of email jihad for god knows how long.

Dogs disappear in the woods. I’m out in the snow with a fucking headlamp following tracks with no goddamned shirt on.

I remember I took something today that’s likely making me feel funny. But can’t remember the particular cocktail while I scream my dogs name into a padded forest of thick frozen cotton that swallows every goddamn syllable and sound wave.

While my dinner burns in the oven.

And by most people’s conjecture this is considered successful

And to their credit. This far exceeds the most hopeful dreams a dissociated little boy from outer space could have ever dreamed

So I keep going. And going. And going. The way you might chew on glass just to feel anything while you gaze too long into the abyss—- or looping videos of animals being tortured for no apparent reason.

And you think, this is probably just the downstream ketamine metabolites from Sunday evening.

And you think “this fucking day, I’m not sure how many of these my body has left to be”

And I’ll wake up tomorrow with sweet blissful amnesia as though it never happened. I’ll find optimism at my core. Even a little electricity. I won’t even recall me, it will take downloading the memory of me.

I’ll swallow a handful of pills and brew the coffee and wait for it all to kick in.

I’ll watch the sunrise of my own mind like it’s the first time.

And I’ll press repeat

Thanks for asking”

Sober

Given Twice

Im off more shit than I’m on, and i’ve been on it all. I’ve been through it all, but no, its all been through me. Wish to death right here I were on anything that made me feel nothing again.

So fucking numb I forget my teeth.

Wish it burned in all the familiar places. Wish it peeled me smooth. And abraded my imperfections, and tumbled my homely soul.

Wish it took the wheel.

Wish I knew how to be.

they all talk about sobriety like some great envy. They talk about sobriety like they cant control the anxiety of holding on to something designed to be slippery. Hot bile, steam and saline, burning fear. Entangled with the meaningless void of life hung out dry and straight.

I used to have poems and ideas. Inclinations, epiphanies and goosebumps. Now I have a running number of time spent waiting for something to come and save me. And if not save, at least validate me. And if not me, my parking.

But it never fucking does.

Its alright.

Its okay.

Thats what people say.

But it never fucking does.

That’s just how it is.

I’m too old to get credit. Too washed to believe this is it. It ain’t it. This ain’t it. Every day my eyes get a little more dry and the sun bleaches my bones all white. You come to find thats how dirt and dust are made.

theres so much further to go and I don’t know. I haven’t gotten what I need just yet. So I’m here, steeped in fear, doubling down on nothing again and again.

Bet it all. Make it all back in one trade. More red, more black. Up some, down big, full tilt, free fall.

rifling through barren pockets for sedatives I never planned to crave. Praying for distractions that haven’t happened yet.

Stop the film.

Burn the reel.

They stopped watching.

So have I.

Here I am.

Home

Given Twice

You take all my hard and make it soft. I resent you. I resent me. I resent us.

You take whats potent in me and make it disappear in your belly.

Just a little flick of the wrist.

We drift and rock and fuck and kiss long after the fact.

You pet my hair and tell me I’m on top.

You make me love to believe that.

It’s the cotton balls stuffed in my mouth up to the hilt and back again. Pouring up over the rim.

I have nothing left to say because I’m linguistically bankrupt after depositing every word I ever had.

In you.

that makes you feel so safe.

I’m left to wait.

On you.

For you.

In you. If I’m lucky.

Hold little things over you.

Fuck time with you.

Forget about me with you.

involved. Enthralled.

in the throes of you.

Trade my altar, eschew my god, and close my eyes to the sun’s rise for the occasional sunset with you.

get all cocked up and twisted and wait for you to come fix it like you do.

Nervous that I love you.

Jealous you made a life before I made you.

I want to make you forget you ever existed. In that way everything you are from here on—— makes you mine. and I’m yours. If I pluck out our eyes and we try to be blind.

You’d be my one. I can be your only.

Laugh until things burn. Too many things hurt.

Why do you even understand me? With your big brain and cavernous mouth that makes me bite sized.

I want to choke you on all of me.

And tell you, casually, all the evil I’ve borne and all the evil I’ve known.

I borrow your eyes and use them to contemplate the beauty I never was and never knew. I pull out your pages lying naked in linen blankets and I borrow your lies to help me drift and forget the ages I’ve wandered to no avail.

I’m all jacked up and spun out and threadbare and fleeced——fuck, naked.

Wild remainder in my stare.

With powder on my nose.

And hope caught in my throat.

I’m home.

Choke

Given Twice

What the fuck am I supposed to do

with high anxiety

tight walk despair and

cinderblock boots.

Make a move, any move

And if it doesn’t give

move different,

move again.

Just like piano wire wrapped

Two times around my neck.

Pull apart. Wrench and twist.

Meat splits.

The pressure would expose

every cord and rope

in my throat. My jugular

the most. The tendons in gross.

until the pressure finds

other places to go,

and my head is dethroned. My neck

opened like a hose.

The gods cheer “Exposed! Exposed! Exposed!”

I’d collapse to the floor.

Never having regretted

No longer dreaming of starting.

No more pretending in beginning.

Painless i’d tell you.

How the light is

swallowed

when we’re departing.

Wheresoever we came.

Thats where we go.

Thats the joke.

This life. Headed or headless.

This life is mirrors. This life is shadow.

This life is smoke.

The Politics of Hair-Pulling

“… and it ought to be replaced by a system of perfect equality, admitting no power and privilege on the one side, nor disability on the other.”

— John Stuart Mill

In the graphic,

she has an angry facial expression,

with her teeth clenched.

She is standing behind him,

gripping his hair with one hand.

He is leaning forward,

appearing distressed

as his hair is being pulled.

A blindfolded statue wearing

a flowing Greco-Roman dress.

She holds a raised balance scale and a sword.

We must crush the serpent of impunity

coiling around her bare feet.

Author’s Note: This poem was inspired by a viral graphic circulated online by Startalk Daily Scoop, which portrays a political quarrel through the imagery of hair-pulling. The poem is a work of political satire and artistic commentary, not a factual account of an actual physical altercation.

Dialogue in the Underground: Emanuel Xavier on Ballroom Lineage, Survival, and the Spoken Word Scene

In a raw, unchecked retrospective on The Kandy Fontaine Show, historic New York spoken word pioneer Emanuel Xavier mapped the coordinates of his nearly three-decade creative trajectory. Speaking directly from the concrete history of the East Coast underground scene, Xavier dismantled academic gatekeeping, tracked the intersection of hip-hop and queer identity, and analyzed the vital role of independent archiving in preserving marginalized history.

Emerging from the explosive 1990s spoken word and Nuyorican poetry movements, Xavier established himself as an HBO Def Poetry Jam alumnus, an iconic voice in LGBTQ+ letters, and the author of groundbreaking works including the novel Christ Like and his recent collection, Still We Are Sacred. For Xavier, entering the literary landscape was a process born out of real-world survival rather than traditional academic conditioning.Xavier’s foundational education as an author did not occur within the structured boundaries of an MFA program, but on the shelves of an underground bookstore. This outsider status immediately drew sharp resistance from the established academic elite.

As Xavier recalls, “I fell in love with spoken word poetry, which was not… you know, by any means academic…there is no right or wrong, and that people will always try to, you know… criticize you, because of your lack of education… I remember being called a street poet… which was derogatory.”

Rather than attempting to conform to traditional academic standards, Xavier chose to validate his identity by aligning his writing with raw, transgressive street visual icons who broke operational rules to change culture.

“But you know, I loved artists like, you know, like Basquiat and Keith Haring, artists who challenged the status quo.”

Central to Xavier’s creative development was his active immersion in the 1980s and 90s New York ballroom scene. Alongside one of his closest collaborators, legendary dancer and choreographer Willy Ninja, Xavier laid down operational blueprints for alternative spaces that eventually broke into mainstream pop culture.

“[Willy Ninja] was always incredibly supportive and helped me found the House of Xavier and the glam slam, and… he always believed in me, so he will always have… a place in my heart, in my history. I can relate that, for example, the ballroom scene… Where we had categories like fem realness and butch realness, and it was all about… looking a certain way or hitting the stage… emulating what we consider to be a real man or a real woman. And that was all… very underground… and celebrated.”

Xavier observed that while modern visibility has created unprecedented avenues for authentic self-expression, the core societal structures of exclusion require continuous, deliberate artistic counter-pressure.

“We’re in a much better place in that people can choose to look how they want to and be who they want to and live how they want to. But at the same time, there’s still that hatred and that ignorance that we have to overcome.”

Reflecting on how underground artistry alters mass media over time, Xavier noted the evolution from past eras when survival required masking identity inside commercial work to today’s upfront landscapes.

“Isn’t it unfortunate that, like, back then, like, things had to be queer, like we said queer-coded. Instead of being so… upfront and like in your face…”

A major focus of Xavier’s work is the preservation of subcultural memory—specifically the names of independent writers and activists who carved out safe spaces before mainstream corporate recognition existed. Xavier credited Nuyerican Poets Cafe founder Miguel Algarín with providing the paternal and institutional backing necessary to speak cleanly without fear.

“One of the people that definitely inspired me was Miguel Algarin… He was incredibly supportive, and… he loved the fact that I was just openly gay on the spoken word scene. From the get-go, you know?… We had an incredible friendship and you know, I miss him dearly. He was sort of like a father figure.”

Xavier similarly detailed his early alignment with queer Colombian poet Jaime Manrique, who served as a vital bridge to his first commercial publisher during a period when queer history was systemically erased from traditional education.

“He’s the one that introduced me to my first publisher. And again, encouraged me to pursue… my vision… Growing up queer, we were looking for that, you know, to be seen, to be heard, and we don’t know where to necessarily turn to, because we weren’t taught about our queer history or our queer forefathers. We had to learn that on our own.”

This self-directed education brought Xavier into direct, early contact with monumental icons of the mid-20th-century avant-garde, though he noted that youth often obscures the historical gravity of one’s surroundings.

“I got to… I got to meet [Allen Ginsberg] in mid-90s, just, like, right before he passed… It was the same thing like because I had met Marsha P. Johnson like on Christopher Street when I was way too young. But I didn’t realize… that these people were so important… When I met Allen Ginsberg, I was… way too young and sort of like, you know, ‘yeah, whatever’… I was just too… you know, caught up in myself or whatever, or, to recognize that I was amidst… something so iconic.”

Concluding his remarks, Xavier outlined the absolute necessity of raw, unfiltered testimony for independent artists. In a cultural arena where expression is frequently monetized or trimmed down, he positioned the act of writing as a vital form of historical preservation.

“Definitely pursue your passion,” Xavier insisted. “Stay true to yourself, be authentic, and don’t listen to the critics. Don’t listen to what other people try to box you into. Because you’re more than that and it’s important for… for you to continue writing, whether you’re writing just for yourself in a journal and you’re never going to share it with anyone, or… you’re going to perform it in front of, like, hundreds of people. Because… it’s important for us to share our stories, because these are our histories. People need to know… how we lived and who we were.”

About Alex S. Johnson Having recently celebrated his 60th birthday on Halloween, Alex S. Johnson aka Kandy Fontaine is the author of numerous books, including The Doom Hippies and Skull Vinyl: Poems 2012-2017, both archived at Harvard University’s Widener Library. His work has been praised by the likes of Cyberpunk godfather John Shirley (The Crow, 1994), who proclaimed Johnson “the Baudelaire of our time,” and Jan Steckel, Lambda Literary Award-winning poet, retired pediatrician and disability and bi rights activist, who called Johnson “a master of the pathetic fallacy.” Forthcoming from Johnson’s Nocturnicorn Books are literary tributes to Ellyn Maybe with contributions from the likes of Iris Berry and Henry Rollins, and to Poppy Z. Brite (Exquisite Corpse), featuring an Introduction by horror master Peter Straub, author of Ghost Story and co-author with Stephen King of Black House and The Talisman. Johnson’s forthcoming interviews include bestselling erotica writer, novelist and screenwriter Marilyn Jaye Lewis, author of Neptune and Surf, praised in The Guardian and championed by Maxim Jakubowski. Johnson lives in Carmichael, California with his family. 

Feudal downpipes

The gargoyles squabble with both

the birds & the bards, neither of 

whom want some primitive form

of artificial intelligence to join them

in a singalong on the castle roof. It’s

only when the rains come, & both

bards & birds retreat to some drier 

setting, that the gargoyles can de-

monstrate their exemplary pur-

pose. Unfortunately for them, no

one is left on the roof to observe it.

The castle grounds are also empty.

Not quite over the moon

My rotisserie oven takes me

to the moon & back, & will

provide meals on the way.

Unfortunately, it can’t be

classified as self-contained

because it doesn’t stream

 HBO Max or do iced water.

32 ft/s²

Today the post-

woman brought

me the Arthur

Murray step-by-

step schematic of

the Beer Barrel

Polka. Except

there were no

steps shown, just

a dynamic topo-

graphical map 

of a hill with 

a figure rolling 

down it at an ever-

increasing speed,

something akin 

to 32 feet per sec-

ond per second. 

A line from Johann Sebastian Bach (2)

I drive north. Small towns a-

bound. Nostalgia overtakes

me, but is tempered with

anticipation of what might 

lie ahead. What I am hoping

to find is some place that might 

be the special province of music.

Not as a congregation of strings

& woodwinds, or of majestic ped-

al organs — rather a site where

the sight of the landscape makes

you want to sing along with it.

Day mock crazy

Many statesmen in 
Washington are
strenuously pushing 
for a bigger role for
social bookmarking 
in Iran, hoping to turn 
it into a highly profitable 
dating community web-
site. A brigade of China’s 
armed police flew there
today to become a part 
of the winning team.

Photo c/o Jacques Fleury
Meadows and Shadows

Jacques Fleury

Morning dew has dawn and clinging to the meadow’s petals

Wildflowers spread arms wide open to embrace the hovering sun

Wind whispering waves across renegade grass fields

While autumn blossoms bloom a golden brown

I wandered in from midtown 

tumbled onto this meadow amidst moments of frown

City life was bringing me down

I always extract something from nature

that I can never get from a bustling town

Symphony of buzzing bees chirping crickets rustling leaves

An amalgamation of sweet smells of clover cleverly 

blended with earthy soil texture

sharp contrasts between malleable moss and thorny fissile

granular sediment or metamorphic rock

that easily splits into thin parallel layers along natural planes of weakness

Venturing into nature has always been my truest test…

Can I survive in an unforgiving forest?

surrounded by nothing by wildlife being wild

while butterflies bounce between blossoms

deers pausing to ascertain dangerous causes

Edge birds nesting in  covert corridors

childhood memories mounting hidden pains in my brain

the meadows proffer a diversion to freedom from such disdain

As daylight shadows the night in the meadows 

   the moon has fallen upon the earth’s silver breasts

In nature’s adopting arms  I find solitude and rest

I yearn to steep myself in its darkest deep

its untamed beauty eases me into worry free sleep

After i left the Meadow

After I left my woe back in the meadow,

a swell surge of sympathy tenderly came over me

I find myself staring up to the few trees in the city

and secretly embracing them while no one was looking at me

but why should I feel shame for having a loving nature

particularly of mother nature

so every day on my way to my work tower,

i stop below a tree reach up and pick a leaf

     and insert it into my pockets

       and go about the rest of my day feeling like a rocket!

 Jacques Fleury is a Haitian American poet, novelist, educator, essayist, arts critic, author, and Harvard University literary arts scholar whose internationally published voice spans continents. The recipient of the 2026 International Naji Naaman Literary Prize for Creativity—chosen from over 4100 global competitors from 83 countries—he holds prestigious memberships in France’s La Fenêtre de Paris and Lebanon’s Maison Naaman pour la Culture. His celebrated books, among them his opus Chain Letter To America: The One Thing You Can Do To End Racism… is held globally from Massachusetts libraries to the UK’s Askews and Holts, and historic sanctuaries like the Harvard Bookstore & Grolier Poetry Book Shop. Discover more of his Boston Globe-featured work at Authorsden/JacquesFleury.—

THE COURAGE TO BECOME THE PERSON YOU WANT TO BE
On self-awareness, social pressure, and the human ability to choose one’s own path

Introduction
One of the most complex quests in human life is the pursuit of self-awareness. As we grow, we are shaped under the influence of our families, friends, educational institutions, and societal views. While
these influences can enrich our outlook, they sometimes make it difficult to distinguish between our genuine desires and the expectations that others have of us. Consequently, an individual often begins to pay more attention to how others wish to see them rather than how they truly want to live.

Self-awareness is not merely finding an answer to the question, “Who am I?” It is a continuous process of understanding our values, reconsidering our views, acknowledging our inner conflicts, and making conscious choices. This path is not always easy: it sometimes requires abandoning long-standing habits of thought, and at other times, standing firm in our decisions even without the approval of others.

Searching for Self: Who Do We Actually Want to Be?
A person often begins self-discovery by observing those around them. They hear various opinions about how to speak, how to dress, which profession to choose, or what kind of life is desirable. Over time, some of these perspectives evolve into personal convictions. However, an opinion accepted by everyone may not necessarily be right for us.

Imagine a young person who dreams of building a future in a specific field. They research, learn, and take steps toward their goal. Yet, those close to them expect them to choose a different path—one that
seems more reliable in their eyes. Their advice may not stem from bad intentions. Nevertheless, as time passes, the individual starts to doubt their own dream. Then, one day, they ask themselves: “Do I truly want this, or am I merely trying to please others?”

This question holds great significance. Listening to advice is one thing; entirely handing over the right to make decisions about your own life to others is quite another. Self-awareness begins, first and
foremost, by asking ourselves honest questions: What do I value? What endeavor brings meaning to my life? What kind of person do I want to become? The answers to these questions may evolve over time. The essential thing is not to shy away from asking them.

Expectations of Others: The Invisible Pressure
Humans do not live in isolation from society. Our family, friends, and the broader social environment exert an influence on our decisions. Support and advice help us grow. However, when the expectations
of others begin to take precedence over our personal desires, this influence transforms into pressure.

Consider, for instance, a student who consistently achieves high marks. People around them expect excellent grades, new achievements, and error-free results every single time. From the outside, they appear confident and successful. Yet, deep inside, they may fear making mistakes, constantly compare themselves with others, or try to prove something in everything they do. Their effort is no longer driven solely by genuine interest or purpose, but also by the desire not to lose the validation of others.

In such situations, asking ourselves a simple question is beneficial: “If no one were evaluating my choice, would I still choose this path?” This question is not intended to dismiss all external perspectives.
Rather, it helps us discern which part of our decision represents our true desire and which part stems from the expectations of others. It is impossible to please everyone equally; therefore, we must not leave
our own values neglected.

Fear of Being Different
Sometimes, an individual hesitates to express their opinion or choose a path different from the norm. One reason for this is the human desire to be accepted and to belong to a group. We want to be
understood, respected, and not cast aside. Thus, if our opinion differs from the majority, we may fear criticism or rejection.

In daily life, this manifests in various ways: someone might pursue a field chosen by their friends despite having no personal interest in it; another might suppress their thoughts out of fear of conflict.
Even when someone is ready to try a new opportunity, the thought “What will others say?” holds them back.

However, being different does not mean we are making a mistake. Independence does not imply disagreeing with everyone or rejecting all advice. It means listening to diverse perspectives, analyzing
them, and ultimately making a conscious decision. Preserving our own voice does not require silencing the voices of others.

Choosing Your Own Path: Courage and Responsibility
When discussing choosing one’s path, freedom and dreams are frequently mentioned. Yet, there is another crucial aspect to choice: responsibility. Taking responsibility for our decisions, admitting our
mistakes, and, if necessary, reconsidering our direction are all integral parts of personal growth.

For example, a person may have intended to pursue a specific profession for a long time. As they gain experience, their interest in another field grows stronger. They might view altering their initial plan as a defeat. In truth, reconsidering one’s thoughts based on new experience and knowledge is not always a retreat. Sometimes, it is the natural result of knowing oneself better.

Not all decisions in life need to be flawless. What matters is making them as consciously as possible and learning from their outcomes. Choosing your own path is not about being superior to others; it is about recognizing your possibilities, setting goals, and consistently striving toward them. Everyone’s circumstances, opportunities, and rate of growth differ. Therefore, comparing our steps today with
where we were yesterday is far more meaningful than measuring ourselves against the results of others.

Not Fearing Change: Identity as an Ongoing Process
It is natural for our perspectives, interests, and priorities to change over time. What we consider vital today might not hold the same significance tomorrow. This does not always signify instability; at times, it is the result of gaining experience and broadening our horizon.

It is essential to be patient with ourselves during the process of change. Personal development does not always manifest through grand achievements. Sometimes, it appears in a small decision, in acquiring new knowledge, in calmly expressing an opinion, or in stepping into an opportunity we previously feared. A person might not achieve a monumental result every day, but striving to understand oneself better and acting deliberately shapes who they become.

Self-awareness does not mean searching for a flawless version of ourselves. On the contrary, it means recognizing our flaws alongside our strengths, being honest with ourselves, and realizing the kind of
person we wish to be.

Conclusion: The Most Important Choice is Being Yourself
Throughout life, a person encounters numerous choices: decisions regarding education, career, relationships, goals, and the future shape their journey. Among all these lies another paramount choice
—whether to build one’s life on personal values or live adapting to the expectations of others.

Understanding ourselves does not mean having all the answers at once. We may hesitate, make mistakes, change our minds, or start over. The key is not to stop listening to ourselves in this process. A
person does not need to isolate themselves from the world to find their identity; they must learn not to lose their own voice within the world.

Perhaps a person’s greatest courage lies not in being completely different from everyone else, but in realizing who they are and living in alignment with those realized values. One can expend immense
energy trying to be the person existing in others’ imaginations, but in doing so, it is all too easy to drift away from oneself. Therefore, we should periodically ask ourselves one question: “Have I truly chosen
the life I am living today?”

Because becoming the person you want to be is not a single-day decision. It begins with self-awareness and continues through choices, experiences, and courage.