How to look more professional on Video meetings is a hot topic right now. There are thousands of online resources about it, and I found that they are all shit. Lets stop learning from boomers, and…
Poetry By Zain Ul Abidin Khan Alizai
The sliver of the life trickles down the cold bars, slides
down and blinds me to the point where I see clearly.
I the sun stifled and perspiring in the muddy palms of the village-lad.
I the pebble a wondering child throws in the water, on a pond bank.
I a scuba diver, no gear, stranded deep in the labyrinths,
the chambers we name a heart.
the bronzed bloody container of hurt.
All blood.
All mess.
When I look up for the sky,
I don’t see the cinnamon colors I once did.
I the child now, and sky the murky pond.
The moon died last evening
when its buddy revolved away.
My light did the same
when I confronted the truth.
The darkest of all.
life is a yin right now.
The buttery pale yellow light divides the colours it has so rote learnt.
Its tiny little core brimming with blues and reds.
It springs towards me.
I no longer coffee.
I no longer cinnamon.
I a pallid drape of a cheap shroud.
The yang plants.
The yang to blow up my insides.
I no longer remain.
The cracks in the ground eat me up.
The flowery air sucks on my odor like a starving bee.
I no more a beating.
I a hunting ground.
I only a theory.
I the pot at the end of the colorless rainbow.
Okayy!! pada bagian ini kita belajar bareng-bareng tentang tipe data string pada bahasa pemograman golang. Kita bahas juga konsep-konsep dasar string biar science dikit lah!. Apa itu UTF-8? apa itu…
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