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Where Words Holds You

Explore the vintage-inspired world of a writer and healer.

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Letters to the Soul

Notes wrapped in gentleness, sent to the parts of you that still ache, still hope.

Free to take, yours to keep — a note for your BECOMING.

A close-up view of a page from a book with text printed on it. The text appears to be a passage from a biblical or religious text, discussing events involving Hezekiah and a prophet named Isaiah. The page has a section header that reads 'Hezekiah’s Illness' and includes numbered verses and additional lines for notation.A close-up view of a page from a book with text printed on it. The text appears to be a passage from a biblical or religious text, discussing events involving Hezekiah and a prophet named Isaiah. The page has a section header that reads 'Hezekiah’s Illness' and includes numbered verses and additional lines for notation.
A person sits in the middle of a bustling street with a typewriter placed on a wooden stand labeled 'poet for hire'. The individual wears a red hoodie and a dark hat, with their head lowered, appearing focused on writing. The street is lined with buildings, and flags are visible in the background, contributing to a lively urban atmosphere.
A person sits in the middle of a bustling street with a typewriter placed on a wooden stand labeled 'poet for hire'. The individual wears a red hoodie and a dark hat, with their head lowered, appearing focused on writing. The street is lined with buildings, and flags are visible in the background, contributing to a lively urban atmosphere.

For Your Quiet Hours

There’s a little girl
behind everything I do.

She played alone, talked to herself, and built worlds from silence.
She was loved, yet often lonely — always longing for a place to belong.
She got hurt, betrayed, forgotten.
But she didn’t stay broken.
She burned. And rose again — quieter, wiser, gentler.

I’m Zainab.
I haven’t lived a thousand years, but my heart has.

I create journals, blogs, and books that don’t just look pretty — they hold souls.
I write not to impress, but to reach.
To cradle hearts that have known silence too long.
What I create is not perfect — but it’s true.
And maybe… that’s what your SOUL was waiting for.

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