“We all carve our stories — on the silent face of time.” Carving eulogy, on the tomb of time, with the knife sharpened by hard work. And seeking colors in — mountains, beaches, grasslands, day and night — to create something I can look back on, when the body won’t be able to take the toll, and the mind will be playing with the past. Past — which we create, we carve, on the tomb of time, where our stories unroll...

“We all leave marks — some on stone, some on hearts, and some on time itself. What we build, dream, and endure becomes our quiet eulogy — written not in words, but in the echoes of our effort.”