The final of WPL 2026

In the first phase of WPL 2026, Jemimah looked like she was falling apart. Timing was off, confidence shaken.

Then someone said something. And something shifted.

Suddenly there was power—real power—backed by proper cricketing shots. She stayed close to her core, played straight, and more importantly, decided she would not give up. My guess? Meg Lanning. Because Meg doesn’t do drama—she plays her game, and she makes others believe in theirs.

Whatever DC did before the final, it worked.

Now RCB have 203 to chase.

To win this, they’ll have to play the best game they’ve played all season.

Yes, finals carry pressure. And yes, under pressure, teams can fold—sometimes cheaply.

But this RCB is different.

Remember their first match? They fought till the last over and won. Since then, they haven’t just played matches—they’ve played to win. Every game. No shortcuts.

The only question now:

Has the gameless week after finishing top of the table slowed their resolve?

Or has it sharpened their hunger?

The chase will tell.

The Parisian Coffee Culture

Changes in coffee cafes of Paris

One Battle After Another

One Battle After Another

A film that feels like a cinematic reflection of what we read and watch in the media today, One Battle After Another unfolds as a crime–drama–thriller rooted in the uneasy realities of contemporary America. The story moves between the believable and the unbelievable—yet everything feels disturbingly close to what is already happening on the ground.

Spanish-speaking revolutionaries assist illegal migration and engage in terror activities aimed at destabilizing the nation, while officers—some driven by white-supremacist ideologies—counter them in the name of protecting the country. These larger conflicts are told through deeply personal lives: an ex-revolutionary (Leonardo DiCaprio) and his mixed-heritage daughter (Chase Infinity, in a striking debut), bound together by survival, memory, and flight.

An officer obsessed with “cleansing” the country (Sean Penn) resurfaces from the past, haunting the father and daughter and forcing them into a desperate escape. Surprisingly, help comes from an old revolutionary network long believed to be dormant. Their journey takes us through an illegal immigrant camp run by a legal immigrant (Benicio Del Toro), while the officer seeks to destroy the only evidence of his own moral collapse—his illicit desire for those he is duty-bound to kill.

The narrative is gripping and layered with suspense, brought vividly to the screen by Licorice Pizza writer-director Paul Thomas Anderson. Cinematographer Michael Bauman shoots the film in VistaVision, recreating the rough, muscular nostalgia of 1970s cinema—raw, uneasy, and forceful.

An adaptation of Thomas Pynchon’s Vineland, the film shows Anderson at his best, inspiring both cast and crew to deliver performances that resonate in every frame. DiCaprio deliberately restrains his performance, perfectly fitting the weary ex-revolutionary, while Sean Penn explodes with unsettling energy as an officer who commits terrible acts in the name of order.

Believable and unbelievable at once, the film ultimately offers international audiences a visceral sense of life along the borderlands of present-day America—messy, dangerous, and morally fractured.

PS:

Not an expert review, but a personal reflection of an ordinary person who likes to stay informed and attentive to the world one lives in... 

Amy Carmichael

In Memory of Amy Carmichael on her 75th Death Anniversary on January 18th. 

Living with her in our hearts,

The way she loved Jesus

A love that filled her with joy and peace,

A joy she lived to share with others.

From that love she found the strength

To do what seemed impossible,

To give a home,

To become a mother to the orphaned.

In Jesus she found courage

For every obstacle that crossed her path.

Remembering you, Amy,

Light and inspiration,

A model of love and quiet joy—

Teaching us to give everything

To what we are called to do,

Whatever our life’s circumstances may be.

Happy New Year

A year is passing by.

For some, it has been joyous; 

For others, sorrowful;

And for many, a mixture of both.

Whatever this year has been to us personally, 

It is still a year of our life.

Let us bid it farewell,

With the quiet satisfaction,

Of knowing that we gave it our best,

Untroubled by outcomes beyond our control.

Thank you!

As you depart, a part of us goes with you.💐

_May the new year 2026 receive you gently._ 

🥳*Happy New Year*🎊

Zundert Flower Parade

Zundert Flower Parade Paints a Town in Dahlias

From bicycles to towering floral sculptures, the Dutch tradition blooms into the world’s largest dahlia parade

ZUNDERT, NETHERLANDS — Each year on the first Sunday of September, the small town of Zundert bursts into colour with the world’s largest dahlia parade, the Bloemencorso Zundert.

What began in 1936 with flower-decorated bicycles in honour of Queen Wilhelmina has grown into a spectacular procession of giant moving floats — some reaching 19 metres long, nine metres high, and 4.5 metres wide. Each float is built by one of the town’s 20 neighbourhoods, using up to eight million dahlias grown locally across 33 hectares of fields.

The work is entirely volunteer-driven. In the final days before the event, residents young and old attach each bloom by hand, in a meticulous process known as prikken en tikken. A children’s parade two weeks later ensures the tradition is passed on to new generations.

Recognised in 2012 as part of the Netherlands’ Intangible Cultural Heritage, the parade now attracts 70,000 visitors annually. Beyond the Sunday spectacle, floats remain on display the following day, with guided “Corsotour” visits to the build tents offering a behind-the-scenes view.

The Zundert Flower Parade is more than artistry in bloom — it is a living symbol of community, heritage, and the extraordinary power of teamwork.

Amanda Anisimova

Dear Amanda,

My heart ached watching you at Wimbledon. I didn't expect that moment to unfold the way it did—for you to freeze, for the stage to become so cruel. You seemed like such a simple, sincere girl, someone who carries a quiet flame rather than a roaring fire. You had the game. You just needed the mind to hold it steady when everything around you began to slip.

When your serve was broken so easily, and the match started running away, I saw something deeper than nerves. I saw a young woman who had worked so hard, who had probably overcome more than we know, standing in front of the world—suddenly unsure if she belonged. And then you cried. Not because you were weak, but because you cared. Because you reached for something great and the moment didn't offer you grace.

Some people laughed. Some questioned how you got to the final. But I didn't. I saw how far you’d come. Not just through the draw—but through life, as the daughter of immigrants, without the full entourage, without the privileges others take for granted. You came with what you had. You played with your heart. And you made it all the way to Centre Court. That is not nothing. That is courage.

You are not a failure. You are not a fluke. You are a fighter who happened to fall. And I pray you rise again, not just for trophies—but for your own beautiful, quiet redemption. I’ll be watching not for the titles, but for your spirit. You’ve already shown the world what perseverance looks like. One day, you’ll show them what triumph looks like too.

Come back stronger, Amanda. Some of us still believe. Always have.

With care,

A friend from afar who was moved by your tears.