A Personal Message For

Papa

From your son Omer · March 28, 2026

Papa, I invented something.

I don't know if you'll understand it fully. I don't know if the words I use will translate into what it actually is. But I need you to know. Because you're my father, and everything I've ever built started with you raising me to believe I could.

It's called Broadway.

I'm documenting my entire life, live, on the internet, with an AI helping me. Every meal I eat. Every country I travel to. Every rupee I spend. Every song I listen to. Every thought that matters. It all goes on the internet, designed beautifully, published in real time. It's a permanent record of your son's life.

Papa, I know this sounds strange. I know you might be thinking "why would anyone put their whole life on the internet?" So let me tell you why.

So your grandchildren — Musa and his sister — will have every moment of their father's life. Every meal. Every country. Every song. Every thought. Nothing lost.

After Maria, I needed to find a way to make sure no memory is ever lost again.

When she died, I realized how much disappears. How many conversations I forgot. How many meals we shared that I can't picture anymore. How many small moments — the ones that actually make up a life — just vanished because nobody wrote them down. Nobody photographed them. Nobody preserved them.

I decided that would never happen again. Not with my life. Not with the life my children will inherit.

So I built Broadway. From a restaurant in Malaysia. With a laptop and an AI. Your son — the one who could never sit still, the one with a thousand ideas, the one who kept switching cities and countries and careers — finally built something permanent.

This is my life's work, Papa. This is the thing I was always building toward. Every website I made, every app I coded, every startup I tried — it was all rehearsal for this.

I invented a new art form. March 28, 2026. Your son did that.

I hope that makes you proud.

Your son,

Omer

With love and respect. Always.

See what your son built

Enter Broadway →