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Share amusing anecdotes, bizarre facts, and hilarious jokes 🤪. Just one rule… keep it respectful ✨
@Ahmed2555031
Put yourself first. You are not required to set yourself on fire to keep others warm.
@minaminamina2026
seek political literacy in your future spouses. you don’t want to end up with dummies that don’t understand the moral implications of supporting a country like Argentina in the World Cup.
Why are there so many Pakistanis on here? What makes the Pakistani community so drawn to this app over other communities?
@juliuspeperwood
it’s really terrifying to think that yall are actual real life human beings walking around in the world, working JOBS, interacting with other real life humans
@_Birdiexx
May the filthy thirsty men never find me
@LuisGG
What are green flags you look for in a partner? ✅
@pii_wii
Hey 👋... Can you people helping me who to work this app 😭🙏
@cloud
Complimentary poem for my online little niece.
Purnima
She is a beautiful paradox,
Phasing through a life like Taegeuk.
The rich, blue depth of a Netrokona monsoon perfectly balanced against the glowing red energy of South Korea.
The Old Korean poets used to ask the moon to act as a bridge between distant hearts.
When she looks up at the Seoul sky, she sees the Boreumdal thousands of miles apart.
But she isn't that type of moon..
Her soul feels the warmth of the full Purnima Bloom..
The poets of Bengal often viewed the moon differently..
Not as soft, not as romantic but as sustenance,
Capturing the energy to live off through the darkest nights.
Using that energy to navigate in a foreign solitude, of Koreas street life.
This Duality of the Moon, she is able to keep her bearings, wherever she goes.
As long as the moon, her north-star glows.
To navigate these two worlds.
When the summer sky dims over Seoul,
and the gentle mists of Jangma begin to fall.
She does not see a foreign storm.
Instead, memories overlays from the Korean rain with the Bengal Rain of home.
Carrying her back to the sweeping monsoon skies of Netrokona.
She carries the misty stillness of the Rangamati hills within her, a peaceful sanctuary that remains untouched by the bustling neon of Seoul.
She proves that home isn’t a boundary on a map, but a warmth you carry safely inside.
They call her Luneth, a name born of lunar light.
Drifting Memories.
