There are some happy and hopeful times in Turkey despite the tragedy and melancholy. One such instance included the discovery of a 2-month-old infant who had been buried under debris for 128 hours and was still alive. The baby, astonishingly, had not been hurt.
the expression of desolation, hunger, thirst, and cold.Following the earthquake in Turkey, a 2-month-old infant with tearful blue-colored eyes is rescued from the wreckage of a house after 128 hours of agony while trapped beneath the debris. A miracle in the earthquake’s anguish.
On social media, a video of a 2-month-old infant is gaining popularity. This baby was buried beneath the wreckage of their Hatay, Turkey, home, leaving people in awe of the wonders of nature. The infant, who was only two months old, spent 128 hours below the ground. But the infant was discovered unharmed and breathing.
The baby is seen being held in a man’s arms and latching on his finger in the widely shared video on social media. Many have expressed amazement at the unexpected sight.
I Decided to Teach My Stepson a Lesson When I Got Tired of Him Littering Everywhere
A couple of weeks ago, I finally moved in with my husband, which was supposed to be the beginning of a wonderful chapter in our lives. I had no idea that my husband’s 15-year-old son from a previous marriage, named Dave, would prove to be a difficult obstacle to overcome. Though I knew there would be some period of adaptation, I did not expect such an attitude towards my efforts to make the house our cozy place in the form of piles of garbage that Dave, as if on purpose, left scattered throughout the house.
At first, I thought it was a temporary situation, perhaps a teenager’s version of chaos. But days turned into weeks, and the mess only seemed to grow. Empty chip bags, crumpled papers, and discarded clothes adorned every corner of our once-pristine home. It was as if a tornado of teenage negligence had swept through, leaving behind a debris field that would shock even a loving mother.
My comments and requests for cleanliness had no effect on him at all. It was like talking to a wall. I wanted to stop this and somehow decided to act outside the box.
One day, when Dave left for school, I came up with a plan. I was going to defeat this trash invasion, which required a strategy that went beyond mere words. Wandering around the house, armed with trash bags and determination, I picked up every piece of clutter that had settled into our home. I was on a mission to teach Dave a lesson in responsibility.
His room, the center of chaos, was my first target. When I walked in, I was greeted by clothes strewn across the floor, a maze of crumpled papers, and a collection of half-empty soda cans. Without pleasure, but with a feeling of determination, I began to put all the items that were scattered in garbage bags. Papers, cans, his clothes, everything was packed into the bags together. In the end, the room gradually turned from a disaster zone into something resembling order. I packed all the scattered clothes with other trash in a bags.
A similar fate befell the living room, kitchen, and even the bathroom. It was a time-consuming task, but I was sure that if words could not reach him, perhaps these bags would show him how much of a mess he left behind.
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