You’re my prey tonight.

Nothing in her life makes sense.All she craves is for the pieces of the puzzle to fit together again.She is sure one day it will happen. She just doesn’t know when.She can’t fight injustice alone– for that, she needs her friends.

I can love what is broken.

She is intent on pleasing the men that frighten her.

The things that knock you down in life are tests, forcing you to make a choice between giving in and remaining on the ground or wiping the dirt off and standing up even taller than you did before you were knocked down. I’m choosing to stand up taller. I’ll probably get knocked down a few more times before this life is through with me, but I can guarantee you I’ll never stay on the ground.

We're all looking for a peaceful and safe place, but maybe there is no such place. But we keep going no matter what's waiting for us down the road. We don't stop living.

To lose--get angry and fight back. To win--forgive with love.

Lumani had never managed a failed delivery because, in the end, no matter how skilled or how hard they fought back, pressure applied in the right places caused even the strongest men to fracture.But this one? He'd watched her. Studied her. Observed what maybe even Uncle, the reader of people, had missed. This one was already fractured, and the lines between her broken pieces were not fissures but scar material stronger than whatever had once filled those spaces.

The real help victims of injustice need is to get the will, skill and resources to fight back. There may or may not be a hell in afterlife but suffering injustice quietly is a sin, punishment for which is a living hell here and now.

I needed to wake up, stand up, and fight.

But I've bought a big bat.I'm all ready, you see.Now my troubles are goingTo have troubles with me!

I've learnt not to draw my sword first to strike. That in no way portends I have the most feeble of minds or might . . . Probably, I'm waiting for the perfect moment to startle with a fatal strike.

Welcome to Sex Media, Where Fantasy Becomes Reality!

Names can hide so much.

This is no place for limits.

It is not fiction. It is history. And both their histories match now.

This is a landscape of dreams cemented in the past, of hopes gone cold, of girls and boys for rent in officially empty tower blocks, where none is truly so.

The loudest silence is camera silence.

Practically, speaking up against street harassment is not about being a hero, getting credit points to be in the good books of a girl or a chance to impress anyone. It is about making sure that everyone has the right to enjoy that spring breeze, golden clouds and chirping without feeling uncomfortable.