https://www.projectopenair.org/

To help build oxigen concentrators:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oxygen_concentrator#How_oxygen_concentrators_work

Dear Friends,

Here is our Literary Contest:

https://talesforlove.blogs.sapo.pt/literary-contest-soon-nature-75427?utm_source=posts&utm_content=1542838166

Please sends us your valuable work.

A poem to all poets by Mr. Ben, Chimezie Ihekuna.

In his Book "The Array of Thoughts"

Loving My Poetry

I love my poetry

That’s our matrimony

I treat her like my wife

That’s why our union has no strife!

How?

The praises of her virtues I’ve Poured

Her excesses of words I’ve taken Out

She made known our undying love through her Emotions

Everything about her has been a reflection of her Reality

She has been a success through her Yearning

In a nutshell, loving my poetry is loving my Poured Out Thoughts

My Poured Out Thoughts are made possible through the reality of my yearning.

Thanks.

Today is the last day when it is possible to send your work (poem or short story) to our literary contest, edition 2017-2018. Do not forget to send us your written work. Nature continues to be our inspiration. Your work is important to you and to us, do not forget to participate.

Thank you and happy writing.

Forest fires in California have been an example of climate change. We can not forget this situation and above all we can not become indifferent people. We have here a video that aims to encourage our individual work in such a way that we will all achieve something positive. For example, if each one of us plants a tree and water it we will do a lot and even if we can sow some trees, it would be excellent.

And don't forget to submit your writing to our Contest "Nature 2017-2018"

About trees and hope Music by Mattia Cupelli "Touch"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_JYHk_D5A44

A writer is not an actor. His work pretends to be a portrait of the most profound feelings of all the characters that live inside the tales he imagines. It is not an objective to see a face that really shows something that is strange to the hart of the person who is an actor. To write is to go hand in hand with the reader; not in a path of "real" landscapes, made of sand and stones, trees and grass, but of smiles, praies and weeping or tears, praies and busts of laughter's, with happy sounds together with them. The landscape of the writer is painted with words and letter, open and closed vowels, consonants and brain signals. Everything is like a group of small drops of electricity that combined create an illusion almost as real as reality. All this can happen during the night:  the writer doesn't have a brush or a palette. His most important instrument are his glasses, not to look to the piece of paper in front of him but to see (and think about) the world and the social movement that happens... everyday. Nevertheless, he is an ordinary man. If he wasn't he wouldn't be able to understand the reasons that explain the movements of woman and men in a complex society. You must believe that the human society is more complex than a society of monkeys! And you may smile thinking about this comparison but the truth is that they are our friends and we all together are a family: the cell of my novel, the piece of flesh the writer sees with the help of his microscope. It is marvelous to understand the machinery of the human reality, especially when we are a part of it.