Finding our way can seem vague but as our years unravel I can’t help but feel an over-whelming sense of gratitude. It’s a kind of gratitude that connects me to the past, the hard work that had to be done by our ancestors to allow who we are today.

Perhaps it’s through our memories and stories. From the ones passed down to us to the ones we share. It’s these moments that later become dreams. In the mean time we can only continue to gather and share. Keeping our ancestors alive through our words and stories then to the young can we only strengthen a family line. I would like to say blood – but sometimes that is not the case. The family we choose and build is what matters. The grass is greener where it is watered.

Madīnah: The Enlightened City