#ahmed ahmed poor

[haveyouseenthismovie-poll]

[randomrichards]

WHERE IS THE FRIEND’S HOUSE?

Boy walks through villages

To return classmate’s notebook

What he does for friends

[gender-luster]

[dare-g]

Where Is the Friend's House? (1987)

[fashionartfilmalien]

These artists wore Artists 4 Ceasefire Pin. If only the rest of Hollywood were compelled to do this or more, there would more awareness, or care about Gaza. Oscar attendees in the early 1990’s wore red pins for HIV and AIDS awareness, but as time goes by celebrity fashion is less aware, less activist, less political. Poor Things’ Ramy Youssef, What Was I Made For’s Finneas O’Connell and Billie Eilish, Riz Ahmed, Ava DuVernay, Poor Things’ Mark Ruffalo. Anatomy of a Fall’s Swann Arlaud and Milo Machado-Graner wore Palestinian flag pins which was even more brave than the rest of Oscar attendees. #artists4ceasefire #gaza #palestinianlivesmatter🇵🇸 #celebswhoareaware #poorthings #ramyyoussef #markruffalo #finneasoconnell #billieeilish #whatwasimadefor #barbie #rizahmed #avaduvernay #milomachadograner #swannarlaud #anatomyofafall #oscars2024

[caradise1]

Playlist inspired by Poor Things

[byneddiedingo]

Babek Ahmed Poor in Where Is My Friend's House? (Abbas Kiarostami, 1987)

Cast: Babek Ahmed Poor, Ahmed Ahmed Poor, Khodabakhsh Defaei, Iran Outari, Ait Ansari, Sadika Taohidi, Biman Mouafi, Ali Djamali, Aziz Babai, Rafia Difai. Screenplay: Abbas Kiarostami. Cinematography: Farhad Saba. Film editing: Abbas Kiarostami. Music: Amine Allah Hessine. 

I think Dickens would have liked Abbas Kiarostami's Where Is My Friend's House? It deals with one of Dickens's great subjects: the anomalous place of children in an adult world that often doesn't even hear or see them or recognize them as human beings with their own problems and concerns. It's the story of 8-year-old Ahmed (Babek Ahmed Poor), who goes to school in the village of Koker. One day the teacher berates the boy who sits next to Ahmed, Mohamed Reda (Ahmed Ahmed Poor), because he has done his homework on a piece of paper and not in the prescribed notebook. It's the third time Mohamed has done this, the teacher scolds, and the next time he'll be expelled. We can see Ahmed wincing at the treatment of Mohamed, and after school he helps the boy when he stumbles and drops his schoolbooks. When he gets home, Ahmed discovers that he has accidentally picked up Mohamed's notebook and is horrified that this means the boy will be expelled. He tells his mother that he needs to take the notebook to his friend, but she's preoccupied with doing the wash and tending to the baby, so she tells him to do his homework first and then to pick up the bread for dinner. Perplexed, Ahmed tries to do his homework but his mother keeps interrupting him to help with the baby or to carry the washbasin, constantly dismissing his insistence that it's important that he deliver the notebook. Finally, he seizes the opportunity to leave, but he knows only that Mohamed lives in the neighboring village of Poshteh, which is over the hill from Koker. So he races up the zigzag trail that takes him over the steep hill and down through the olive grove that lies outside the village. He knows Mohamed's family name is Nematzadeh, but there are lots of Nematzadehs in Poshteh, and he doesn't know which branch of the family is his friend's. Finally, he gets a lead and is told that Mr. Nematzadeh and his son have just set off for Koker. So he races back over the hill, only to be delayed in his search by his own grandfather (Rafia Difai), who sends Ahmed off to fetch his cigarettes. While Ahmed is running this errand, the grandfather expounds his theories of child-rearing to a friend: His own father, the grandfather says, would give him some money and a beating every other week, whether he deserved it or not. Sometimes, he admits, his father would forget the money, but he always remembered the beating. This, the grandfather proclaims, taught him the discipline and obedience that children today like Ahmed don't learn. Meanwhile, Ahmed, who is struggling to fulfill what he sees as his duty to his friend and his family, has learned that the boy who accompanied Mr. Nematzadeh was not Mohamed, and that the man has just started back for Poshteh, riding on a donkey. So Ahmed makes another trip over the hill, keeping Nematzadeh in sight and following him into the labyrinthine streets and alleys of Poshteh, only to discover that he has the wrong branch of the family after all. Eventually, after another misadventure, a despondent Ahmed returns home, finishes his own homework, and copies it into Mohamed Reda's notebook, which results in a well-earned happy ending. It's an excellent movie for children, but beside that, Kiarostami's screenplay, direction, and editing, and his empathy with the people and landscape of Northern Iran bring everything together into a fable about miscommunication and the difficulties of growing up. It's not as ambitious or complex as some of Kiarostami's later films, but it has their depth of feeling and brilliance of execution.

[help-mona]

Have our cries reached you after a full year of war that it is still ongoing! 🚨🚨

Today, we have completed a full year of the fierce war on Gaza – Palestine – and the world is still waiting for all of us to die. 😔

We know that you are tired of the many messages and appeals that we send to you, but there is no other way, which I have to admit that it is not the ideal one, to conveying our plea and the suffering we are enduring.

To donate, click here 🙏

To donate paypal here

We can barely access the internet, so please try to help us financially or by spreading our story whenever you receive one of our pleas.🛜🛜🛜

Look at the picture, and you will understand how much we need your help and support during these difficult times we are going through.

Will we be able to resist the cold of winter in these clothes? what about our children? ???!! 👧👦😔

Winter is coming now, and we need essential requirements that we miss and lack because they cost money in these harsh conditions and the insane rise in prices.

Starting with:

*** Rehabilitating the tent we live in, which does not protect us from the cold weather at night and has deteriorated under the summer sun.

*** Winter clothes, especially for the children and all family members.

*** Winter blankets to protect against the cold night weather.

*** Medicine, especially for my daughter’s eye treatment and for my mother, who suffers from high blood pressure due to the poor living conditions.

How can you help us during these difficult times?

Even a small amount of support can help us, at least initially, to provide:

*** Winter clothes and blankets for the children.

*** A new tent that can protect us from rain and strong winds.

*** Some food supplies to help boost our immunity.

*** The chance to relocate when the borders open and secure a safe place for the family where medical care is available.

In this critical time, we need your support, even if it’s just a little, as it can provide for our basic needs and help us to at least survive and stay alive

To donate paypal here

Thank you for your generosity and compassionate hearts.❤️❤️🍉🍉

[nesmamomen]

Maybe her last wish before death‼️

Not to arouse pity, something happened to me today and I wanted to tell you about it. Today my sister shared with me a simple but deep and touching dream... She dreamed that she was eating chocolate - a small pleasure but dear to her heart. In all innocence, she told me that she wished to die so that she could eat everything she loved in heaven. Cuz for 400 days in this war we have not tasted chocolate and many things due to famine. Maybe it was a simple dream, but her thinking made me see life in a different way, how many small pleasures we sometimes deprive ourselves of, and now we realize them in the midst of this war.

Donate the price of the chocolate you love🤍

My family and I may die in this war but your help gives us happiness and hope in our lives and if we die the money will go to save the poor and treat animals as well♥️

My campaign verified

@\nabulsi here @\el-shab-hussein here

@fancysmudges @brokenbackmountain @anyonghalimaw @zigcarnivorous @aleciosun @fluoresensitivearchived @khizuo @schoolhater @timogsilangan @appsa @buttercuparry @sayruq @malcriada @palestinegenocide @sar-soor @akajustmerry @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @feluka-blog-blog @tortiefrancis @feluka @flower-tea-fairies @tsaricides @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @visenyasdragon @belleandsaintsebastian @ear-motif @kordeliiius @brutaliakent @raelyn-dreams @troythecatfish @theropoda @tamarrud @4ft10tvlandfangirl @queerstudiesnatural @northgazaupdates2 @skatezophrenic @awetistic-things @camgirlpanopticon @baby-girl-aaron-dessner @nabulsi @sygutka @junglejim4322 @heritageposts @chososhairbuns @palistani @dlxxv-vetted-donations @imjustheretotrytohelp @mnty-bubblegmyum

[ahmed0khalil]

Hello, among the hundreds of tragic stories, I am sharing my painful story.

My name is Ahmed Khalil, I am 6 years old. I was at the beginning of my education, trying to learn, participate, and play with other children. My family consists of 8 members, including my mother and father. My father has diabetes, my brother Fathi is blind, my other brother Abdullah has autism, and my brother Mohammed was injured in his leg by shrapnel from rockets.

On October 7, 2023, the war began and has not stopped since. The airstrikes and Israeli shelling caused fear for me and my family. We could not endure the massive explosions that felt like recurring earthquakes and the red flames sweeping through the area. We were forced to flee to southern Gaza based on orders from the Israeli forces, leaving our beautiful apartments behind. We went to a UN refugee school in Deir al-Balah to escape the terror and death.

We stumbled into a different life full of suffering from every side, living through the most painful hell of war. I developed malnutrition due to contaminated water, poor hygiene, and the spread of infectious diseases with no suitable medicine available.

The situation is catastrophic and unbearable. “There is only death left in Gaza. Even death has become a privilege because it provides a sense of relief.” My older brother Mohammed and I begged our father to leave Gaza, but it was extremely difficult due to the high costs. My father lost all his property during the war, including his electronics repair center and apartment, which were completely destroyed, so he has nothing to help us travel out of Gaza. There is no safe place in the Gaza Strip.

I pray every moment for the end of this war and a ceasefire. The ceasefire is not just a call; it is a desperate cry to end the helplessness and despair spreading to every corner after more than 11 months of war. We flee from death every day, only to wake up the next morning to try to escape it again. My heart is heavy, unable to bear the recurring nightmares, and the overwhelming flood of news about blood, displacement, loss, and despair pouring from Gaza.

Every minute feels like a struggle. No one should have to endure this injustice, segregation, and discrimination. The ongoing shelling in southern Gaza and the intense bombardment of residential buildings in Deir al-Balah make everyone feel unsafe, believing they might be the next to face tragedy. Communications are cut off. We are exhausted and cannot bear more tragedies and losses. We are currently living in a classroom of the UN center, which is crowded with people, including my relatives and cousins. My poor father sees our pale faces and weak bodies and stands helpless due to the lack of money and resources.

I am still six years old, and I never thought I would witness such a brutal attack with complete disregard for human values. I am deprived of my basic rights, including health and education. I need to rebuild my life with my family abroad and receive better healthcare. Traveling to Egypt would cost at least $5,000 per adult and $2,500 per child, which is an enormous amount given the harsh living conditions and the blockade that has lasted for 17 years.

Therefore, I ask you to donate so that we can evacuate Gaza to safety. Please continue supporting our campaign by donating if you can and sharing it with your friends and family. Every contribution, no matter how small, helps us get closer to our next goal and brings us nearer to securing a safer future for my family.

[khanger]

Please don't look away 😢 😔

I want to introduce everyone to Abdullah. He is the younger brother of @ahmedpalestine and his short name is Aboodi he is four years old and in the picture above. Aboodi is helping his family collect scrap wood to build a fire for cooking. He likes this, trying to help his mom with chores and, love, do anything for his family. Aboodi loves animals so much, and he always feeds the neighbors' stray cats and loves to pet them and play with them, and if not for the genocide that he and his family were trying to survive it, he would have adopted a kitty 💗 and poor things he wants to go back to his house, and he misses the living room and laying on the sofa to watch TV and to watch toyor aljana (طيور الجنة) his favorite channel and sing along and dance with them and please donate to help evacuate him with his family to safety .

Vetted by bilal-salah0 here

Gaza-evacuation-funds

Conversion Rate

1 € = 1.11429 $

1 $ = 0.897435 €

[yeyinde]

kinda enamoured with the thought of our poor mc going to a dud of party but meeting Kyle and Johnny there (both looking as out of place as you feel) but instead of taking you home, they bring you back to Price and Ghost. a sweet little treat for them all to share.

and they're charming, of course. too charming. but alcohol numbs most of your inhibitions about how touchy they are. how physical. folding themselves into your space, leaning down to whisper in your ear when you can hear them just fine. hands on the small on your back. around your wrist. your waist. knuckles against your cheek—

god, you're such a pretty little thing, aren't you?

warm skin. breath that smells of thick, sweet cream and oaky black tea. hands curling under the hem of your shirt—shush, shush, doe, ahm jus' helpin' ye; yer hot, ain't ye? lemme help ye out o'yer jumper—thick, sunkissed fingers dancing over your skin.

you feel funny, you slur into his—Kyle, he huffs, grinning wide; wolfish: call me Kyle, sweet thing—neck, chasing the scent of spiced vanilla and wild, ripened plums. everything is spinning. spinning—

"god, he's gonna just love you—"

but they'll take you somewhere. home. you nod, nose tucked tight against his warm, steady pulse. "wanna go home—" you mumble into salt-tinged skin, and they laugh.

"oh, don't worry, beautiful. we'll get you right where you need to be."

you trust them, of course. let them usher you into their car, curled up against a broad, warm chest. lulled under a blanket of security wrapped tight in strong, firm arms. and if his hand wanders, fingers tickling the insides of your thighs. well—

you can't deny they're attractive. maybe you can get their number after and call them in the morning.

but that doesn't happen.

you wake to the sound of voices. hands sliding under your knees, around your shoulder. carried into a house that isn't your own—some strange cabin deep in the forest. the glow of the wood stove in the only light on inside, and you struggle to adjust to the thick orange haze.

"what's going on?" you ask, blinking at the sight that greets your liquid eyes.

Kyle places you down on a rug, holding your hips tight when you fumble. laughing, just a little, under his breath when you gasp.

sitting in an old, wooden chair is a man you've never seen before. big, broad. intimidating. his thick legs spread lazily—one kicked out against the rug, the other bent at the knee. and elbow rests on it. in his hand, a lit cigar. the other dangles, loose and lax, off the armrest. fingers curling, unfurling, into spasmic fists.

his eyes burn caeruleum in the flickering gold.

you fight back a shiver, but feel it slide like hot oil down your spine.

"what—?"

"my boys didn't explain it to you?" he asks, voice a rough, abrasive scratch in your head. gritty. porous. you feel it against your skin. fingers digging into your nape. bad girl. there's something about him that commands attention, and you give it easily as he tuts, pale lips pulling into a condescending sneer beneath the thick of his beard. "or maybe you just weren't payin' attention, sweetheart."

"attention to what—" sir almost trembles out. his lips twitch like he heard all the same. "i just want to go home—"

the hand dangling over the ledge flares to life. he flicks it careless around the room with a hum. "you are home."

"my real home—"

and then you see it.

he moves like liquid through the shadows. folds himself into the dark like its where he belongs. and you thought—and still very much do—the man sitting on his throne was large, intimidating, but it pales at the absurd height of this thing that slinks out of the corner with a heavy, laden gaze. powdered charcoal. endlessly black. flat, though. amused.

when he speaks, it's all brass. "what's this? Johnny brought 'ome a stray?"

"nah," you hear Kyle's grin. feel the phantom shift of sharp teeth against your neck. breathless laugher. warm hands. baby, you feel so good. "we found 'er in a club. lost little lamb."

"and you dragged her back to the wolf's den, mm?"

"you complainin', cap?"

it takes all of your willpower to tear your eyes off the man, but you manage. ripping them away until you find him—Price—again. he stares back with a lidded, heavy gaze. unflinching. hungry.

"not in the slightest."

Kyle purrs. "Johnny couldn't keep his hands off her, sir. might have some competition for who goes first."

cold air on your nape. dread bubbles up in your belly. "no—"

they continue like you hadn't spoken. like you don't exist. the man in the corner folds his thick arms over his broad chest, shaking his head a chainsaw-like grunt. laughter, you think.

but Price doesn't seem to find it nearly as funny. his teeth sink into the butt of the cigar with a growl. "gonna fight me for first, Sargeant?"

Johnny snorts, and rubs his finger under his nose.

"she's sweet," he murmurs, all wide-eyed and feverish. cheeks pinked under the warm spill of orange. "cannae blame a man fer wantin' such a pretty little thing—"

"back of the line," Kyle prods. and you wish his touch made your stomach churn, but that thread of intrigue, alcohol spooled want, still thrums in your veins.

"i just—" you stammer, eyes widening as real, tangible fear sets in. skewers into your belly. heart in your throat. the erratic echoes pounding in your ears. "i just want to go home."

"you are home, birdie—" he speaks and it feels like the walls shake. "didn't get a bright, did you, Johnny?"

"tha's mean, Lt—" his hands snake around your waist, pulling you into his hard chest. "didnae anyone teach ye 'ow tae chirp at birds?" the shorn sides of his Mohawk scratch against your cheek when he nuzzles, kittenish, against your face. "don't listen tae 'im, doe. yer th' sweetest, brightest lit'le thing—"

"mm, and such a bright little girl would know how to behave, wouldn't she?"

even with the alcohol dulling your senses—thoughts scattered and thin as two pairs of hands start pulling at your clothes, stripping you down to nothing—you can still see his words for what it is:

a threat.

as if to reinforce this idea, the man—Ghost, Johnny whines into your burning, stinging cheek, skin chafing from the graze of his buzzed sides: gotta 'ave a taste, Lt—moves, his body spilling out in a dizzying tumble of thick limbs. he stands by the door—the only one—and folds his arms over his chest once more, head cocking to the side as he stares down at you.

"don't worry, Johnny," he rumbles, lids slipping to half cresences over the ink black of his eyes. "i intend to."

the air stills when Price hums. your attention is pulled back to him instantly, but a part of you—all animal—halves it down the middle, keeping Ghost in your sights at all times. turning your back on him feels—

stupid.

you shiver.

Price shifts in the chair, reaching up for the cigar still pinched between his teeth. the look in his eyes is a startling, heavy thing. doom tastes like ash between your teeth.

"an' you're a bright girl, aren't you?"

it's not really a question. you nod anyway, feeling the fight in your body dissolve like wisps of smoke in the dense, thickened air. excitement, desire, hums—an electrical current—in the air, bubbling up between them. they move around you in a way that's dizzingly coordinated—a living, thrumming dance. stigmergy. as your clothes fall, as their hands grab your flesh, pinching and caressing, moaning in your ear about how soft you are, how sweet, one, horrifying thought thickens in the back of your head:

you know, then, that you're not going home.

"oh, sweetheart," Price drawls like he knows what you're thinking. a mocking little coo as he tucks his knuckles under your chin, lifting your head up to meet his burning gaze. there's something in there, you think. something awful. something hungry.

"you already are."

[dlxxv-vetted-donations]

VETTED URGENT PALESTINIAN EVACUATION CAMPAIGNS

Aug 13-20. Updated Aug 21. I am no longer focusing on promoting/updating this list, but I encourage you to share and donate. Thanks for everyone's contributions!!!

These campaigns are for evacuation and involve at least one person who needs to be evacuated for medical care as soon as possible. The health of other members deteriorate due to poor living conditions.

Falastin Iwais: @falesten-iw (shadowbanned), @falastin-iw (vet). Far from goal. Donations stagnating.

10USD = 105SEK. gfm (Google Pay, credit/debit): SEK 3,344 5,940 / 2,000,000

Mohiy-Resh: @mohiy-gaza (vet)

There are other members in this family but please focus on this campaign for now. Donation match USD 5.

gfm (Venmo, PayPal, Google Pay, credit/debit): USD 12,395 17,396 / 31,000.

Muhammad Al-Habil: Tent burned down, father and children injured (said here). @aya2mohammed and @alhabil (#166 on @/el-shab-hussein and @/nabulsi's spreadsheet)

gfm (PayPal, Google Pay, credit/debit): € 23,480 25,182 / 50,000

Walaa (child): Has type 1 diabetes and is constantly at risk of dying because she doesn't have insulin. Donations stagnating.

Donation match: $6 CAD. @burningnightgiver (Walaa's mother, vet), @ahmed79ss (confirmed to be father here)

gfm (credit/debit): CAD 10,126 10,835 / 50,000

Mohammed Hijazi: @savemohammedfamily (vet, #475 in the ButterflyEffect Project spreadsheet)

gfm (PayPal, Google Pay, credit/debit): € 8,673 12,376 / 20,000

Ahmed Halas: @ahmeadhilles (vet, shadowbanned?), @ahmedhelllis. Far from goal. They are registered and are likely to be called to leave soon.

gfm (PayPal, Google Pay, credit/debit): € 5,004 9,174 / 80,000

Pinned campaigns

Survival costs are taking up most of the Haboub family's donations.

SEK 76,973 91,718 / 100,000 (Short term goal, $10 USD = 105 SEK)

The Alanqar Family's campaign is almost at its goal. Don't let it stagnate!

€ 55,342 56,882 / 58,000

Please share and donate if possible!

Check out my promotion masterlist and current promoted list for Euro campaigns.

[ahmedpalestine]

My heart breaks for my family. How many times must their hands burn just to reach a loaf of bread? And behind each loaf lies the harsh reality: flour infested with worms and insects, expired and damp from poor storage and transport. Yet they have no other choice they’ve already been forced to eat animal feed and wild grass.

Do you know the cost of this single sack of flour? Or how many children risk their lives gathering firewood from the rubble of destroyed homes under constant threat of bombing? Aboudi, for example, should be living his childhood in peace. Instead, he’s the one tasked with collecting wood for cooking.

Can you imagine how many children, how many people, wait eagerly for that single piece of bread, only to share it among so many? How much longer will this suffering and humiliation continue this war of starvation? Do you know how many children have died hungry in this genocide?

Silent solidarity will not save the children of Palestine. We must act and make a difference. Thanks to your support, we have raised enough to secure the escape of three of my family members from Gaza.

Please, continue supporting my family so we can secure the fourth as soon as possible. The border could open at any moment, and we need the funds ready to save their lives before we lose this chance.

Vetted by bilal-salah0

Gaza-evacuation-funds

@timetravellingkitty @deathlonging @briarhips @dirhwangdaseul @mahoushojoe

@rhubarbspring @schoolhater @pcktknife @transmutationisms @sawasawako

@feluka @birabiroo @irhabiya @commissions4aid-international @wellwaterhysteria

@deepspaceboytoy @post-brahminism @khanger @evillesbianvillain @neechees

@mangocheesecakes @kyra45-helping-others @jezior0 @7bitter @tortiefrancis

@toiletpotato @fromjannah @omegaversereloaded @vague-humanoid @tododeku-or-bust

@aristotels @komsomolka @xinakwans @heritageposts @nibeul

@ot3 @amygdalae @ankle-beez @lonniemachin @dykesbat

@watermotif @stuckinapril @mavigator @lacecap @yugiohz

@socalgal @chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli @sayruq @northgazaupdates2

@vakarians-babe @wayneradiotv @paper-mario-wiki @rthko @decolonize-the-everything

@velvetys @3000s @punkitt-is-here @ghelgheli @feluka

@cruzwalters @yugiohz @akajustmerry @shesnake @tamamita

@opencommunion @brutaliakhoa @schoolhater @bilal-salah0 @dragondemoness .

@lapastelr0sa @victormcdicktor @murderbot @acehimbo @heliopixels

@jezior0 @turian @labutansa @thedigitalbard @imjustheretotrytohelp

@buttercuparry @newsfrom-theworld @alexander-the-alright @autisticmudkip @isa-ah

@ot3 @hazem-khalil @huckleberrycomics @heydreamchild @heydreamchild

@wintersteves @orphicdazai @transmutationisms @fatickono @meraofxebels

@dlxxv-vetted-donations

[streamondemand]

'Where Is the Friend's House?' – Abbas Kiarostami's first childhood odyssey on Criterion Channel

Where Is the Friend’s House? (Iran, 1987), Iranian master Abbas Kiarostami’s first and most conventional dramatic feature, is an odyssey of sorts, a sweet and simple story of childhood in rural Koker. Ahmed (Babek Ahmed Poor) is a schoolboy who discovers he’s accidentally taken home his buddy’s homework assignment. Against the express orders of his mother he rushes off to a nearby village to…

[pcktknife]

read full post please + thanks!

if you voted make sure you share‼️

i was contacted by nader (@/abdalsalam1990) to help boost his family's campaign! vetted by @/gazavetters listed #4 on their spreadsheet.

the family is made up of abdul salam (26), his wife aya, his baby iman (only 1 years old!), his mother iman (49) and father ahmed (54), and his brothers mohammed (14), nader (17), and omar (21) all hoping to raise enough funds to be able to evacuate to a safer country where they don't need to live in fear everyday. on top of the stress of trying to survive the frequent bombings, nader told me he worries about the approaching winter and how they have nothing to keep themselves warm. acquiring food and medication is also a struggle they face, poor baby iman suffers from malnutrition and ahmed desperately needs medicine and surgery to help him fight cancer.

as of 10/26/24 they're at €20,949/€50,000. nader expressed that he would desperately like to reach the halfway point which is only €4051 away. if you can spare anything, even the bare minimum of €5 it really would make a huge difference ❤️