Stories From Summer
What this summer means to me?
A season of small, sweet surprises
Doodled on Receipts Again
Ideas hit me in coffee shops, on buses, during thunderstorms. I sketched dreams in margins and to-do lists, trying to make sense of feelings through shapes and color. Some became real. Some just made me feel better.
Built Pages From Emotions
I turned messy thoughts into pixels, late at night, powered by chai and soft music. I wasn’t just learning code (or WordPress) — I was learning how to turn a season into something you could scroll through... without feeling bored.
Launched Bits Into the Void
I shared more than I planned to. Sent bits of myself into inboxes, captions, and disappearing Instagram stories. Not to be seen — but to connect. And sometimes, someone sent something back.
Chased Lightning in Tiny Bottles
Some days, I wrote things just to feel them twice. Other times, I posted blurry sunset photos with captions that made no sense — and somehow, that was enough. This summer, I let my thoughts be seen.
Bought Books I Didn’t Finish
I told myself each one would change my life. A few did. The others? They just looked really good next to my iced coffee. I like to think of them as investments — in a slower, softer version of me.
Asked for Help (More Than Once)
There were moments I didn’t know what I needed — but I still reached out. To friends. To music. To that one stranger who held the elevator. Turns out, support sometimes looks like laughter. Or silence. Or a song on repeat.
See What I Saw
Not just places — moments. And the way they made me feel.
It smelled like rain and fried noodles. I was lost and glowing
Where the sea stopped talking, and I finally heard myself
Some views don’t ask to be photographed. Just remembered
The silence here was louder than any city I’ve ever lived in
"May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, and dangerous, leading to the most
amazing views"
This is a warning label for anyone who dares to build something personal.
This site didn’t come from perfect plans or Pinterest boards.
It came from dead ends, detours, 3AM breakthroughs, and quiet joy when something finally felt right. I didn’t map this trail. I followed it. And here you are, somehow, reading this.
This site didn’t come from perfect plans or Pinterest boards.
It came from dead ends, detours, 3AM breakthroughs, and quiet joy when something finally felt right. I didn’t map this trail. I followed it. And here you are, somehow, reading this.
Ashzaeen Fatmi Khan
Writes in margins. Builds with intention.
Need a site like this? Or just impressed I didn’t break the internet?
I build, I write, I debug at 3AM. If you’ve got a project, a dream, or even just a vague idea scribbled on a napkin—I’m in.