Nonfiction

Where My True Face Begins
The first chapter traces the early years of a man who has always felt out of place, shaped by solitude, intuition, and a constant search for meaning. Born much later than his brothers, he grows up between a distant father, an exhausted mother, and a childhood split between Paris and the countryside. Animals become his first refuge, music his second, and his father’s workshop his third.
By Dominique Carden43 minutes ago in BookClub
Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow—it was a phrase Mira had first heard in a classroom where dust floated lazily in streaks of afternoon sunlight. Her literature professor had recited it slowly, like a spell, explaining how time could stretch endlessly forward, carrying both hope and despair in its wake.
By Ibrahim Shah about an hour ago in BookClub
How Well Do You Live?
''Yes, I have a homeland. The French Language.'' - Albert Camus * Something very strange happened while I was reading this book. Usually, I have a few things on the run (too many books; too little time?), and this was added to a stack that often threatens to crush me in my sleep. I would skip from one to other, often disappointed, confused and enlightened...but rarely entertained (the cold and the darkness outside probably played a role, as did the constant running around from contract to contract). And I really don't care what any intellectual in any academic setting claims, you need to be entertained when you pick up a book.
By Kendall Defoe a day ago in BookClub
The Year My English Improved, I Became Quieter. AI-Generated.
The first time I realized my English had improved was on the subway. It was rush hour, the kind where bodies pressed together until no one could tell which arm belonged to whom. The train screeched to a stop between stations. A distorted announcement crackled through the speaker—fast, careless, impatient.
By Jenny 3 days ago in BookClub
I Am Not a Failure. I Was Simply Not Chosen. AI-Generated.
The first time I realized I had not been chosen, it was an ordinary afternoon. So ordinary that I didn’t understand its importance until much later.
By Jenny 3 days ago in BookClub
New York Did Not Betray Me. I Simply Overestimated Myself. AI-Generated.
The first time I felt disappointed by New York, nothing dramatic happened. There was no argument. No rejection letter that made my hands shake.
By Jenny 3 days ago in BookClub
Three Kinds of People Live in the Basement . AI-Generated.
The first thing I noticed about the basement was not the mold. It was the smell. A layered smell—stale cooking oil, damp clothes that never fully dried, raw concrete, and something faintly sweet, like cheap laundry detergent. It was the kind of smell that told you people had been living here for a long time, long enough for their lives to sink into the walls.
By Jenny 3 days ago in BookClub
The Bed That Was Never Mine. AI-Generated.
The first night I slept in New York, I slept on the floor. Not because there was nowhere to live, but because the basement apartment had everything except a bed. The landlord said it casually, as if it were a rule of nature.
By Jenny 3 days ago in BookClub
Roosevelt Park And Me
When I first arrived in New York, I didn’t know where my life would begin. It turned out to be Roosevelt Park. New York is often described as a city of ambition and spectacle, but my earliest memory of it is quieter. It is a narrow park running along Chrystie Street in Manhattan’s Chinatown. Trees stand where buildings pause. Benches line the path. People pass through without ceremony.
By Jenny 5 days ago in BookClub
Lunch Break. AI-Generated.
At the hardware store, lunch always arrived on time. Every day at exactly twelve, the boss would clap his hands once and say, politely,
By Jenny 6 days ago in BookClub
Wheat stalks
Wheat stalks. We are very much like wheat stalks. Reflect on this with me. Hello everyone, how are you? I hope you are all well and in good health. Reflect with me on these wonderful words, which I wrote myself. We are like wheat. How are we like wheat?
By Ashrakat Elnagy7 days ago in BookClub
What do people make from iron?
Iron is one of those quiet nutrients that doesn’t get much hype, yet it works nonstop behind the scenes to keep the body energized,
By Niaz Muhammad9 days ago in BookClub