I came back from the fire.
Not as a hero, not with a medal — but with empty hands, a burned heart, and a mind full of stories no one dared to tell.
I was once a firefighter — someone who saved lives.
Today, no one even looks at my resume — because one day, I decided to write the truth.
And for that, I went to prison. I lost my job.
But I didn’t lose my pride — I fought for it.
Writing wasn't a hobby or a career for me.
It was the only way I could breathe.
Now I sell my books on the streets.
Not as a statement, not for style —
just to survive.
My new book is ready.
But where I live, to publish a book, you have to pay bribes.
You have to stay silent to get permission.
And I chose not to be silent.
I always believed — what you can’t find in the fire,
you might find in the ashes.
And I found myself in the ashes.
Maybe it sounds foolish to rely on likes and comments,
on a few dollars sent across borders.
But here, dollars are sometimes more valuable than life itself.
Sadly... more valuable than anything.
If you're reading this,
please like, comment, share it with your friends.
This is the only way I can keep going —
honestly, it’s all I have.
