Sally!!

yall know i’m canada DOWNNNNN

I'm a big fan of the "GPS Theory" when you miss a turn, your GPS doesn't judge you, it recalculates. No matter how many detours you take, it finds another way forward. Life works like that too. You'll make mistakes, but your destination doesn't vanish. The route just changes.

🌸

Suddenly, you're 27. You make your coffee, rush to work, come home around 7, and you're too tired to do anything except eat, scroll on your phone, and pass out. Then you wake up, and do it all again. And when Friday comes, maybe you go out, or maybe you're just too tired. Then, out of nowhere, it hits you. How did everything pass by so quickly? You don't even feel 27. You still feel like that 17 year old kid who thought they had all the time in the world. But somehow, 10 years just disappeared. And you start missing the past. The feeling of being young, excited, and clueless. But then you realize, one day, you'll miss this, too. Being 25, being confused, being tired, but still trying. So maybe the trick is to slow down a bit and actually live this chapter before it also becomes just another memory. The point is no matter what age you are, you’ll miss these days. Life gets busy sometimes and it’s always a good time to stop and smell the roses.

4 years ago, Loeys-Dietz Canada sat down with Dr. Cavallé-Garrido (Pediatric Cardiologist and Head of the Aortopathy Clinic at the Montreal Children’s Hospital) and the CAN-ACT steering committee with a shared vision 👉 can-act.org @ccpcrn @fondChildren

How many lives have been sacrificed just to tell us the truth, to open this cruel world’s eyes… I don’t know how humanity will ever recover from this.

what a weird time we live in, you scroll on your phone and see oppression in the palm of your hand yet your hands are powerless to stop it

Can you tell us how he died, where, and why?

@ranye_west_ beautiful 🤍

Oh and it’s Dr. Ranya now btw 👩🏻‍🎓

Yesterday, at Al-Awda Hospital in northern Gaza, a girl-child came into this world, and the world rejected her. She had no brain. Not in the poetic sense of innocence or purity, but anatomically, literally: anencephaly. No cerebrum. No future thought, no dreams, no memory to be made. A skull empty of purpose. She was full-term. Her mother carried her for nine long months, through burning nights and weeping mornings, through dust, grief, and sirens. And then, birth. But no life to save. Only silence. The doctors stood helpless, mocked by the limits of their hands. I saw them, people of medicine, their skilled, sterile fingers trembling. Not from confusion, but from recognition. Teratogenic damage. Developmental failure. Genetic disfigurement, not by chance, but by war. Bombs struck not only buildings, but chromosomes. The weapons, steel, shiny, American, fell not just to destroy the present, but to corrupt the womb. To poison the idea of tomorrow. What do we call this horror? Radiation? Dioxins? Depleted uranium? Invisible toxins that do not kill quickly, they wait. They embed, cross placental walls, and twist the neural tube. They disrupt life before it begins. There are more cases. Miscarriages. Premature births. Malformed limbs. Cleft palates wider than sorrow. Spinal cords like broken scrolls. The doctors whisper now, this is no cluster. It’s a pattern. A Lancet study warns of up to 200,000 indirect victims, not from blast wounds, but from genetic harm passed down to generations unborn. But the world is deaf. It counts the dead by explosions, not deformities. It tracks casualties by limbs lost, not genes shattered. And here, beneath the rubble, the deepest wound is in the womb. I saw her yesterday. The mother. She didn’t cry. She only looked. Her arms were empty. She had carried a daughter with no brain. But the child had eyelashes. Fingers. And that’s the most terrible thing: that life tried. That the body obeyed. That, even in apocalypse, the cells kept building. Somewhere, another child may be born marked by air their mother once breathed. And they won’t know why. They say war ends. That ceasefires come. That healing is possible. But how can it end when it lives in cells? When the placenta becomes a battlefield? When biology becomes the archive of war? This is not just a war of fire and steel. It’s a war against life. Against women. Against the act of birth itself. I have seen death, bodies torn, lungs gasping under broken ribs. But never have I heard a silence as loud as when a mother delivers a child already condemned by the sky above her. And so I write. Not to accuse. Not to weep. But to remember. Because some weapons do not explode. They incubate. #GazaGenocide

First Ramadan Iftar in Gaza, Palestine.

We have to be direct about Trump’s plan in Gaza: He is calling for ethnic cleansing. Congress must stand firm against his demand for war crimes.  Palestinians have a right to live with equal rights and freedom on their land.

I’ve found that if you love life, life will love you back

You don't know what they have gone through!

a year later and we’re still failing them.

"I wish children didn't die. I wish they would be temporarily elevated to the skies until the war ends. Then they would return home safe, and when their parents would ask them “Where were you?” They would say “We were “playing in the clouds” — Ghassan Kanafani

@abulroon wishing her all the best ❤️ love you