IMPIRENEWS

It was 3:30 in the morning when I first heard the sound—a faint scratching outside the front gate, followed by a low, desperate whimper. At first, I thought I was …

When I first saw him, he was lying in the gutter behind an abandoned warehouse, barely moving. His fur was tangled with mud and oil, his ribs jutted out like …

He lay under a broken wooden bench behind the marketplace—small, motionless, and barely breathing. His fur, once white perhaps, was now covered in dirt, mud, and open wounds. His ribs …

The first time I saw him, the world seemed to stop for a moment. It was early morning, the streets still quiet, painted with the pale light of dawn. A …

The sun had barely risen when I first saw him—lying in the dust near the old market road, half-hidden behind a pile of thrown-away baskets. His body was trembling, his …

The morning sun had just begun to spill over the roofs of the quiet village, lighting up the dusty roads and the lush green trees. The air smelled of rice …

The morning sun was blazing over the small village, casting long shadows over the market stalls and the narrow dirt roads. Everyone was going about their day—selling vegetables, bargaining loudly, …

The sun had barely risen over the small Cambodian village, painting the horizon with strokes of gold and pale pink. The quiet morning was filled with the usual sounds—chirping birds, …