I didn’t plan to make a project like this. It just happened. For more than a year I was helping people escape from war – families, kids, grandparents. Sometimes I was on the phone all night, sometimes searching for tickets or a safe road. And then, later, I started to receive postcards from them.

At first I didn’t know what to do with these postcards. They were small, fragile things. Some had flowers, some had short words like “thank you” or “we made it.” But they were not just paper. They were pieces of life, proof that someone survived, that someone kept a little hope inside even when everything around was falling apart.

So I made pashtouki.com. An online place to keep them, to show them. Not as decoration, but as voices. When you scroll through, you see that behind every card there is a journey – fear, leaving home, crossing borders, then slowly building something new.

I don’t try to make it “perfect.” It’s not about design or smooth stories. It’s about real people and their messages. Sometimes messy, sometimes beautiful. That’s why I think it matters.

For me, these postcards are like quiet bridges. They connect those who had to leave with those who might never know what it feels like. And maybe, if you spend a little time with them, you will feel that connection too.

Pashtouki is not about the past only. It’s also about the future – the belief that no matter how dark it gets, there will always be someone who writes, draws, or simply says: I’m still here.