His writing sometimes emerges as a scream, occasionally just a whisper; then it transforms into groans. The most beautiful aspect lies in the strength that permeates every guest's heart. The words wield power. Events unfold in the written word, reclaiming the voice we lost-a weary soul with lost wishes, the last gasp of pride, the pulse in a dead heart, the soul in a tired body-ultimately, life.

Writing embodies the meaning of sadness, pain, tears, and brokenness. Yet, it also carries a touch of love, care, and the longing that constitutes the happiness of writing. It is not a competition or a pursuit for gain; there is no search for a goal. Instead, it is an expression. For Aya, we encounter people with wonderful gifts, pure hearts, and whispers that are fragments of happiness-some of them akin to beautiful cartoons.

Purity plays a chord, loyalty a tune; knowing them is like wearing a crown, carried with pride in their presence. In their company, our lives increase in beauty and splendor.