Mama

Mama.

Your son went and invented something from a restaurant in Malaysia. With no money. Just a laptop and an AI.

I know. Typical Omer. But hear me out.

It's called Broadway.

Mama, I know you worry. I know you're 7,000 kilometers away and sometimes you don't hear from me for days and you wonder — did he eat? Is he safe? Is he happy? Is he lonely?

Broadway is my answer to all of that.

Every roti canai I eat, you'll know. Every country I go to, you'll see. Every prayer I make, it's documented. Every time I'm happy, every time I'm struggling, every time I find a beautiful place or eat something that reminds me of home — it's all here. Written down. With photographs. With maps. With the exact restaurant and the exact price and the exact time.

You don't need to watch YouTube. You don't need to figure out Instagram. You don't need to download any app. Just open this website whenever you miss me. That's it. Read. See the photos. See what your son ate today. See where he is. See that he's alive and building and still the same kid who used to sit in your kitchen, except now the kitchen is in Kuala Lumpur.

This is your window, Mama. From Islamabad to wherever I am in the world — you can always see me through this.

I built this for a lot of reasons. For Musa and his sister, so they'll know their father's whole life. For the world, because I think this is the future of how humans share their stories. But honestly? A big part of me built it so that you never have to wonder where I am or what I'm doing.

You raised a son who couldn't sit still. Who kept moving from city to city, country to country. Who lost his wife and kept going. Who has ADHD and a hundred ideas and never stops. But Mama — that son just invented something real. Something permanent. Something the world hasn't seen before.

March 28, 2026. Your son created a new art form. From a cheap restaurant. With $28 in his account. And you're the reason he could.

Because you never stopped believing in him. Not once.