Today, I met Paul Eaves, one of our dedicated caretakers, at the George Floyd Memorial site on this cold day, with temperatures hovering around 27°. We were bundled up in layers, seeking warmth in the freezing weather, so excited to see one another that a heartfelt hug was in order. Together, we ventured towards our greenhouse, the sanctuary for our live plants during Minneapolis' harsh winter. It was noticeably warmer and more comfortable inside than the freezing conditions outside. Once we opened the door, the scent of the plants filled the air, providing a pleasant contrast to the chill we had just experienced. The aroma of fragrances from the plants was like an immediate rush of joy. It was like a " healing fragrance" because it felt so peaceful in the presence of this life growing inside. It just happens to be plants.

In the heart of George Floyd Square, amidst the whispers of remembrance and the weight of collective grief, Lamar, a New Yorker, stepped into this hallowed space with his family. Though he may not have known it, I was drawn to his presence, a mysterious connection urging me closer. But a voice within held me back, compelling me to be a silent observer instead.

And in that quiet observation, a moment of profound humanity unfolded before me. Lamar, with deliberate reverence, removed a bracelet from his wrist. He kneeled gently and laid the bracelet at the memorial. Moved deeply by his gesture, I approached him, my heart brimming with emotion. "Your act has warmed my heart in ways words might never capture," I told him. "It's rare to witness such personal offerings being laid to rest by the giver.

I found myself at George Floyd Square, where I had gone to pay my respects at the memorial and extend a warm welcome to other visitors. While there, a passerby pointed out something intriguing, urging me to look in a particular direction. My gaze followed their indication, and a tall and graceful woman stood beside the plants adorned the memorial. She was delicately placing an envelope and a bunch of flowers amidst the plants.

I hurried over, wanting to express my gratitude, but by the time I rounded the corner to where she had been, she had vanished as if into thin air. I couldn't help but think, "Wow, she disappeared astonishingly fast." I questioned my eyesight for a moment, as one moment she was present, and the next, she was gone. Nonetheless, I decided to examine what she had left behind. On the ground, I discovered yellow flowers and a white card bearing the words "George Floyd."

These two pianos, except one, have been a steadfast presence right here, anchoring this place since the George Floyd uprising. Their importance extends far beyond the melodies they produce; it's a testament to the heartwarming story of how they found their way here. When you stroll through George Floyd Square, there's an almost palpable energy, with someone invariably taking a seat at one of these pianos, playing tunes that can span the spectrum from the soul-stirring gospel to the rustic strains of country, the heartfelt blues, the soulful ballads, and even the rhythmic beats of hip hop. It's almost as if the very soul of this Square breathes life into these instruments, infusing them with an irresistible and powerful energy

.George Floyd Square possesses a unique and profound ability to touch the hearts of those who visit, inspiring them to sit down at the piano and share their music with the community, pouring their love into every note they play. These pianists may not be the next virtuoso like Liberace, but within the keys and strings of these pianos, they discover a connection to the very essence of the Square itself.

Collins and his wife, proud residents of Minneapolis, opened their hearts and city to visitors from South Africa at George Floyd Square. I couldn't contain my joy as I shared with these South African guests the extraordinary visit of Ndaba Mandela and Nkosi Mandela, the beloved grandsons of the legendary Nelson Mandela, who had graced George Floyd Square just a few months prior. Describing the experience, I conveyed how it had overwhelmed my spirit and filled me with a profound sense of warmth. Meeting members of the Mandela family was nothing short of a dream come true.

Our visitors stood in awe but weren't surprised by the Mandelas' visit, for it resonated with the essence of their legacy. Their admiration for the Mandela family was palpable, and they urged me to explore the beauty of South Africa, assuring me that I would find a deep and abiding love for the nation. My heart swells with gratitude for all those who made the pilgrimage to our square. It has evolved into a sacred space of healing and growth for me.

As I strolled into the square, I was drawn to a woman fervently capturing the essence of the George Floyd memorial with her camera. Evidently, the memorial had begun to overwhelm her, so I temporarily placed my sister (who was on the phone) on hold. Little did I anticipate that this spontaneous encounter would soon transform into a profoundly impactful experience for both of us.

Once our eyes met, she stood tall without hesitation, graced me with a warm smile, and uttered, "It's a beautiful day." Her voice had a certain firmness, yet beneath it lay a deep well of gratitude. She continued, "I'm grateful to be here, by the grace of God." However, as she spoke, tears rose in her eyes, and her voice trembled as she confessed, "I'll never forget what I saw that day. You can't imagine the pain of watching him there, begging for help."

I was thrilled to meet two people from Goldsboro, North Carolina, who came to the square. Goldsboro is where I was born and raised. I meet many people in North Carolina, but meeting people specifically from Goldsboro is rare. There was another one who had mentioned he was from Kinston, North Carolina, and I was excited because it made me feel like I was back home. We also talked about nearby small towns like Snow Hill and LaGrange, and it was nice to connect over our shared knowledge of these places.

To make things even better, we discussed the delicious barbecue at Wilbert's BBQ, where my father had worked for years. They also recommended a great barbecue place in Ayden, North Carolina. This whole experience really brightened my day at the square

In the middle of the Twin City Marathon, I took on a 5K challenge this year, proudly sporting my "Running 4 Stolen Lives" T-shirt. This 5k wasn't just any race but a mission that meant more than personal accomplishment. It was my way of representing the spirit of George Floyd Square and a cause that deeply touched my heart.

Honestly, I wasn't in the best shape physically for a challenge like this. But it wasn't about how fast I could run but about the determination burning inside me. I walked the path with unwavering resolve, determined to conquer the challenges of the marathon. Amid the physical exertion and emotional ups and downs, I had a guiding presence—the Gatekeeper, "Medea of the George Floyd square"” who became my anchor throughout this emotional journey.

When I look at that photograph, a flood of memories from 2020 rushes back to me with crystal-clear clarity. It was the year police officers tragically murdered my nephew Perry, also known as George Floyd. His death symbolized the deep-rooted issues in our society, sparking global demands for justice. Remembering that time still stirs up a mix of emotions in me, including nervousness and a touch of fear.

Walking into a crowd of hungry and relentless journalists waiting outside was an experience I'll never forget. They were eager for the story and thirsty for any information about Perry's case, and their questions came at me like a relentless storm. At that moment, I doubted my ability to convey what I wanted to say, but I was determined to remain composed.

In the heart of winter, in the snow-covered streets of George Floyd Square, a thought often lingers in the minds of visitors: do people still make offerings in this frosty season? The resounding answer reverberating through the crisp, cold air is a heartfelt yes. It serves as a testament to the enduring spirit of humanity, a spirit that knows no boundaries. It's a spirit that unites people from all corners of the world, regardless of race, culture, ethnicity, religion, or sexual orientation, in acts of love and compassion during this unique season.

Winter, with its icy grasp and long nights, can be seen as a metaphor for life's challenges. Yet, despite these challenges, a collective warmth

Every day I visit the Square, I'm struck by the many offerings left behind. I have my thoughts on what they mean, but I know they can mean different things to different people. Still, thinking about these offerings brings me a sense of healing and joy. Three items at George Floyd Square caught my attention: a black doll, a white shoe, and Mickey Mouse. Each carries a unique message.

The black doll symbolizes black youth and the potential for real change in future generations. It's a reminder that addressing racial issues should start early in life,

In the third grade, I embarked on a journey of self-expression by writing my very first paper. The topic was "What Electricity Means to Me," at that tender age, I poured my heart onto paper, articulating my feelings and experiences with unwavering honesty.

Growing up, my family lived in the most humble of circumstances. Our abode was a raggedy shack house, and poverty was our constant companion. The daily struggle to make ends meet defined our existence, and the realities of life in that ramshackle dwelling left a profound imprint on my young heart.

Today, I found myself at the George Floyd Square, drawn by the powerful and symbolic connections that bind us. I ventured to the Listen Media art exhibit, a creation of King Demetrius, recently unveiled to the public. Little did I know that within those walls, I would encounter a profound source of inspiration.

As I reconnected with King Demetrius, a community photographer, a family entered the store, and among them was a remarkable young woman named, Dominique who is a resident of the University of Minnesota community, has dedicated herself to the cause of social justice, and a passion deeply rooted in her Minnesota home.

Introduction

Writing is not merely a mechanical act of putting words on paper or screen; it is a deeply personal and creative endeavor that requires a receptive mind and a passion for expression. To truly harness the power of the written word, it is crucial to attempt writing only if your mind is open and you feel entirely ready. Your writing should flow effortlessly, like an energizing force, and not be a chore. Writing should be your passion and a means of sharing your thoughts, emotions, and stories. This article will explore why it's vital to approach writing with an open mind and readiness and how it can transform your writing into a magical and powerful force

In the heart of the George Floyd Memorial, a place that welcomes people from all corners of the globe, I encountered something truly heartwarming. Ahmedjasin, from Finland, entered my life for a fleeting moment. This meeting wasn't by chance; it was a beautiful testament to the incredible connections that blossom in this sacred space.

As our stories and laughter filled the air, I couldn't help but share that I hadn't met many Black Americans from Finland. Ahmedjasin's response was like a warm embrace for the soul: "Black people are everywhere." In those words, we found a shared bond transcending borders or boundaries. In that moment, we felt the beauty of our shared humanity, a reminder that love and compassion know no limits.

The visitors couldn't help but wonder, "Are these actual graves?," when faced with nearly 200 tombstones. We gently explained that the imitations of grave sites were not genuine; they were replicas, representations of tombstones representing individuals who had tragically lost their lives at the hands of the police or the judicial system. However, the most crucial revelation lay in the names etched upon these symbolic markers – they were real people.

I felt this irresistible pull towards the Square in the blistering heat of the day, almost hitting 100 degrees. This Labor Day had a different vibe, a weight that urged me to stop and think. There, before me, was a memorial adorned with three simple rocks. They might have been small, but their significance was enormous, tugging at me to take a moment and ponder.

I must have walked by those rocks a dozen times with a newfound determination as if destiny was nudging me to uncover their hidden meaning. Those rocks had been there forever, unnoticed by many, but today was the day I decided to pick them up and read the words etched on their weathered surface

Losing someone who has been a part of your life for over four decades is a pain that cuts deep. The news of their passing hits you like a tidal wave, leaving you drowning in a sea of emotions that are almost too much to bear. Their memory floods your thoughts every second, and the tears flow endlessly. This is where I find myself now, overwhelmed with grief.

Encountering this remarkable duo from Fargo, North Dakota, was a truly moving experience. A father and his daughter embarked on a journey from their hometown to Minneapolis, with a special stop at the George Floyd Memorial. Standing side by side at the memorial, I could see the depth of emotion etched on the father's face

Today was a remarkable day, one filled with emotions that are hard to put into words. I had the privilege of attending the grand opening of a significant event, a celebration of my dear friend and colleague,