noor ul amin
Stories (148)
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The Train Ride That Changed Everything
It was a regular Tuesday morning, and I boarded the 7:15 train with the same exhaustion I carried every day. The air smelled faintly of coffee and damp jackets, people’s eyes glued to glowing phone screens, their lives locked into silence. Nothing about that morning suggested that I would walk off the train as someone different.
By noor ul amin6 months ago in Humans
From Computer Dummy to Python Person: My Messy Learning Story
So here’s the thing — I never planned to learn programming. Like, at all. I was just this regular person who got really annoyed at doing the same boring computer tasks over and over. You know that feeling when you’re renaming files for the hundredth time and thinking “there has to be a better way”? That was me, constantly.
By noor ul amin6 months ago in Futurism
Layla and Majnun: A Love That Burned Through the Desert
Prologue: The Desert Holds Their Names The desert has no memory, and yet, it remembers everything. It remembers the footprints of caravans that vanished centuries ago. It remembers the songs of poets carried away by the wind. It remembers the cries of lovers who dared to whisper their secrets into the stars.
By noor ul amin6 months ago in Humans
The Scent of Rain and Distant Melodies
Ancient-looking stone structures and vibrant foliage line the path. The man is wearing a deep red sweater and jeans, while the woman has a flowing blue skirt and a dark top. Their backs are to the viewer, emphasizing their shared journey into the heart of a place that feels both timeless and full of untold stories. Mist hangs in the air, hinting at a recent rain.
By noor ul amin6 months ago in Humans
How to Automate Boring Tasks with Python
Look, I’m going to be honest with you. I used to spend entire afternoons renaming files. Hundreds of them. One by one. Click, type, enter. Click, type, enter. My back hurt, my eyes were tired, and I felt like I was slowly losing my mind.
By noor ul amin6 months ago in Futurism
Why Consistency is the Secret to Earning as a Writer
I spent two years trying to crack the code of making money as a writer. I read every “how to go viral” article, studied successful writers’ strategies, and even tried to reverse-engineer trending posts. I was convinced there had to be some secret formula — the perfect headline, the right topic, the magic publishing time that would finally unlock my earning potential.
By noor ul amin6 months ago in Confessions
Why Python Is the Friendliest Language for New Programmers
I remember when I first decided to learn programming. The sheer number of languages out there was overwhelming — C++, Java, JavaScript, Ruby, Go — where do you even start? After talking to a few developer friends and doing some research, I kept hearing the same advice: “Start with Python.”
By noor ul amin6 months ago in Futurism
The Archivist Who Remembered Tomorrow
1. The Memory Market In 2091, memories were currency. They were encoded, traded, edited like video clips, and—if you could afford it—archived forever in cryo-ceramic vaults. There were laws, of course. Memories couldn’t be stolen, couldn’t be falsified, and certainly couldn’t be sold without the host’s consent. But laws are like old books in the age of memory trading—everyone agrees they exist, but no one really reads them. Eliah Ayers worked in one of the oldest vaults in New Geneva—a crumbling art-deco skyscraper called The Hollow Tower, where memories were stored like fine wine. The world had moved on to sleek mindcloud interfaces, but The Hollow Tower catered to the elite, the paranoid, and the nostalgic. Eliah was an Archivist. Not the kind that corrected metadata or fetched memories on request—he was a Purist. He cleaned memories. Restored them. Reassembled broken timelines. He spent his days inside other people’s minds, reliving births, funerals, betrayals, orgasms, murders.
By noor ul amin6 months ago in Fiction
The Summer I Bought My First Laptop
The summer break had just begun at our med school. The campus was buzzing with students rushing to catch their buses and trains home. In the middle of all the goodbyes, I left without hugging my best friend, Umar. I don’t know why—it wasn’t intentional, but as soon as I reached home, my phone buzzed.
By noor ul amin6 months ago in Fiction
