it started with a wall.

not brick, not stone—
just a stamp in a passport,
just a line on a map,
just a rule written by people who had never met us.

dua and uzair watched from afar,
while the rest crossed over,
laughing, living, moving.
the world kept spinning.
they stayed still.

borders don’t break bones,
but they fracture something deeper.
not just who belongs where,
but who gets to belong at all.

so we refused to let distance win.
uzair and harsh called it brotherhood.
snighda found it in a song.
si thu, dua, and shayan saw it in charity—
the same hope, different languages.

8 billion project wasn’t planned.
it happened in the spaces
between visas and voices,
between loss and longing.

a reminder
we are more than the lines between us.

we are everyone. everywhere. always.