THIS IS HOW IT USED TO BE
But now, it’s reborn. Rawer. Louder. And wholly untamed.
The Printer and Alishba
It wasn’t just a machine—it was alive. Whispering secrets in ink.
Lost in Tibet
Twisting roads, the hum of a cat-led motorcycle, and the infinite horizon.
Lost in Tibet
The motorcycle purred beneath me, its headlight cutting through the mist. Somewhere, a cat’s eyes glowed—watching. Alishba was ahead, always ahead.
We weren’t looking for enlightenment. We were looking for an escape. The roads twisted like ancient veins through the mountains, and every curve whispered: “Turn back.”
But we couldn’t. Not with the cat leading us.