Today, I saw something that wasn’t just a website… it was living pain.

An Egyptian person created a simple idea, yet incredibly heavy:

“I am not a number.”

I opened the page, and there were countless dots… meaningless at first. Just identical, silent, cold points. I didn’t understand. It felt ordinary… just a design.

But the moment I touched the screen, everything changed.

Each dot became a name.

Every movement of my finger revealed a person.

A story. A life. A voice that once existed… and then disappeared.

The more I moved my hand, the more names appeared… as if I were sinking into an endless ocean of absence.

That’s when I understood.

72,000 is not a number.

It is an entire world gone.

72,000 stories that stopped suddenly.

72,000 hearts that once beat… now memories.

I found myself searching… trying to find my father’s name, my brother’s name among them.

But I couldn’t.

Not because they weren’t there… but because the number was too vast.

We’ve grown used to numbers. We hear them, repeat them, then move on.

But when you see the names… when you touch them… you cannot escape.

You feel each name looking back at you, saying:

“I was here… don’t forget me.”

This isn’t just a website…

It’s a painful reminder that behind every number is a human being,

and behind every statistic is a life unfinished.

We are not just witnessing a tragedy…

we are living it, while the world reads it as numbers.

Maybe that’s what made this website different…

it gave the absent their names back.