Andrea ZioIf you can, come to NYC #GrandCentral and visit the #DearNewYork exhibition. It's spectacular... And free
From #BrandonStanton of #HumansOfNewYork fame
Coach Sankhavaram ®#HumansOfNewYork via #Facebook
https://www.facebook.com/share/1aSYsU9P5P/
“One time we were playing in the yard of the school, and the gates were open, and the watchman, he was so precious, he was praying.
“So we packed our bags and ran for it.
“There were five of us girls. The watchman saw us and began to call us back, and all of them ran back, except for me.
“I kept running.
(1/7)
#HumansOfNewYork via #Facebook
https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1H1hHmvxye/
“At one point, I hated Gaza. I just wanted out. I wanted to study in America and be this big director. I wanted to win an Oscar. All my dreams were overseas. I think I was just mad at how besieged Gaza was—it limits you in so many ways. Some of the men here are so narrow minded. I wanted to throw them all out of Gaza so that they could see the world, and then bring them back, with different views, and different thoughts. But there’s (1/7)
IanMoore3000Humans of New York has been telling the stories of people from Gaza. This one is particularly intense.
Humans of New York on Instagram: "When I tried to interview Marwa, the internet in Gaza was so bad I couldn’t hear half of her words. She then sent me a written follow-up, which was so moving, and so beautifully written, that I’ve ditched the interview altogether and am including it here in full: “Israel bombed our house into a pile of rubble and dust. Everyone in it— my mother, my father, my four sisters, my brother, my baby niece— became a memory in the same instant. During the war, the home had become our lifeline. Comfort wasn’t always in words. It was in a shared cup of tea in the dark. It was my mother holding our hands, her presence a silent promise that we were not alone. It was my sisters distracting the children with stories. We would huddle together, our physical closeness a shield against the terrifying sounds outside. It’s probably a mercy that the house is now gone, because I don’t think my heart could bear to see the physical emptiness of the rooms where so much life once existed. It’s the ‘unimportant’ moments, the background noise of a living family, that I miss the most. I miss the sound of my father’s key in the door at the end of the day. I miss my mother’s hand on my forehead, checking for a fever that wasn’t there, just out of habit. I miss arguing with Nour about politics and then laughing about it two minutes later. I miss Mona’s quiet smile from across the room, a look that says: ‘I understand. I miss Ayat bursting into my room to show me a funny video. I miss the boys debating which one of them was the better gamer. Where all that beautiful noise used to be—there is nothing but profound silence. If I had one more moment with each of them, I would simply say: ‘Thank you.’ To my father: ‘Thank you for believing in me more than I ever believed in myself.’ To my mother: ‘Thank you for every silent sacrifice I was too young or too busy to notice.’ To my sisters and brothers: ‘Thank you for being the irreplaceable pieces of my childhood and my heart.’ And if I could sit all of them together one more time, the whole family, I would say to them: ‘I see you. I see everything you did for me, for us. And I am so incredibly grateful.”"
32K likes, 995 comments - humansofny on August 21, 2025: "When I tried to interview Marwa, the internet in Gaza was so bad I couldn’t hear half of her words. She then sent me a written follow-up, which was so moving, and so beautifully written, that I’ve ditched the interview altogether and am including it here in full: “Israel bombed our house into a pile of rubble and dust. Everyone in it— my mother, my father, my four sisters, my brother, my baby niece— became a memory in the same instant. During the war, the home had become our lifeline. Comfort wasn’t always in words. It was in a shared cup of tea in the dark. It was my mother holding our hands, her presence a silent promise that we were not alone. It was my sisters distracting the children with stories. We would huddle together, our physical closeness a shield against the terrifying sounds outside. It’s probably a mercy that the house is now gone, because I don’t think my heart could bear to see the physical emptiness of the rooms where so much life once existed. It’s the ‘unimportant’ moments, the background noise of a living family, that I miss the most. I miss the sound of my father’s key in the door at the end of the day. I miss my mother’s hand on my forehead, checking for a fever that wasn’t there, just out of habit. I miss arguing with Nour about politics and then laughing about it two minutes later. I miss Mona’s quiet smile from across the room, a look that says: ‘I understand. I miss Ayat bursting into my room to show me a funny video. I miss the boys debating which one of them was the better gamer. Where all that beautiful noise used to be—there is nothing but profound silence. If I had one more moment with each of them, I would simply say: ‘Thank you.’ To my father: ‘Thank you for believing in me more than I ever believed in myself.’ To my mother: ‘Thank you for every silent sacrifice I was too young or too busy to notice.’ To my sisters and brothers: ‘Thank you for being the irreplaceable pieces of my childhood and my heart.’ And if I could sit all of them together one more time, the whole family, I would say to them: ‘I see you. I see everything you did for me, for us. And I am so incredibly grateful.”".
via #HumansOfNewYork on #Facebook
“I remember taking my final exam, getting stuck on an answer, and thinking: ‘Who cares, I’m about to die.’ I knew something was very wrong. Medical school is always tiring, but this was a different kind of tired. I was getting by on multiple cups of coffee, multiple energy drinks. Large lumps had begun to appear in my neck. After the exam I stumbled down the hall to the ER and the doctors told me that my organs were failing. It took eleven weeks to make (1/7)
Dana#drawingpractice #drawingprogress #sketchbook #art #sketchbookart #sketchbookdrawing #dailydrawing #fineliner #portrait #portraitdrawing #drawingheads #expressions #drawingfaces #brantonstanton #humansofny #humansofnewyork #humansofnewyorkstories
#drawingpractice #drawingprogress #sketchbook #art #sketchbookart #sketchbookdrawing #dailydrawing #fineliner #portrait #portraitdrawing #drawingheads #expressions #drawingfaces #brantonstanton #humansofny #humansofnewyork #humansofnewyorkstories
Dani Danis