Bueno Technologies Inc. 2025-11-10T02:47:03Z
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percusion cumbiaCumbia percussion is a virtual electronic drum application that turns music creation into your favorite entertainment.- Contains accompaniments, loop patterns with real sounds to play live- You can create drum beats in just a few clicks.- You can play with the different sounds like a -
Podomatic Podcast & Mix PlayerPodomatic Podcast & Mix Player is an application designed for users to explore and enjoy a vast array of podcasts and music mixes. This app, available for the Android platform, allows users to access thousands of audio episodes, covering various topics from talk radio t -
Ludo Master-Offline Star kingLudo Star 2 is a totally new Ludo game which is free to play. * No pre-set modules* No internet connection required! Play offline* Play with your family and friends through Local and Online Multiplayer.* Play 2 to 6 Player Local Multiplayer Mode.* All the rules are optio -
Qibla Compass - Qibla FinderQibla Compass - Qibla direction application use to find the direction the Kaaba in Mecca on maps compass. Qibla compass will find qibla location in the real-time and you can use it anywhere in the world. With GPS technology will help to you find direction qibla quickly an -
ViberseGot photos or videos collecting dust in your albums? Don\xe2\x80\x99t be shy\xe2\x80\x94drop them on Viberse, from memes that cracked up you BFFs and trips to your favorite city to the kitten that stole your heart (and bed).No frills, just little slices of daily life that bring people closer. -
Pandalive - Video ChatWe\xe2\x80\x99ve got the cure for your boredom these days - video chat with people from all over the world who are just like you! Our app allows you to skip the endless texting and begin talking to people over video chat instantly. And starting is super easy to do: create a pro -
Omega - Live video call & chatWant to add some spark to your life and make new friends quickly? Look no further than Omega!Omega is a live video chat app that connects you with strangers from around the world. Experience the thrill of talking to new people through video chat and text chat. With mill -
Rain lashed against my cheeks like icy needles as I stood ankle-deep in red mud, water seeping through cheap sneakers. Another ghost bus had evaporated into Khon Kaen's humid haze – the third this week. My soaked notebook bled blue ink across tomorrow's presentation slides as thunder cracked overhead. I'd become a connoisseur of disappointment: the particular slump of shoulders when brake lights disappear around corners, the metallic taste of swallowed curses when schedules lied. That monsoon-se -
The sky hung heavy with bruised purple clouds that morning, smelling of ozone and impending ruin. My fingers trembled not from the unseasonal chill, but from the spreadsheet blinking red on my laptop - three unsigned contracts for 500 tons of soybeans rotting in silos while Chicago prices plummeted. Rain lashed against the window as I fumbled through sticky notes plastered across my desk: "Call Zhang re: Clause 7b," "LDC payment overdue - URGENT." Each reminder felt like a physical weight, the p -
That Thursday started with Emily's offhand comment about forgetting my birthday - again. We'd been drifting for months, those polite "we should catch up!" texts gathering digital dust. I stared at my phone in the dim glow of my bedroom, fingernails digging crescents into my palm. Social media showed her laughing with new friends at rooftop bars while I scrolled alone. Was our decade-long friendship becoming a museum exhibit? Preservation-worthy but functionally dead? -
Stale coffee and printer toner hung thick in the midnight air as I slammed my laptop shut. Three weeks. Twenty-seven scam listings. One panic attack in a moldy basement that smelled like wet dog and broken dreams. My knuckles turned white gripping the edge of the rickety desk - this shoebox studio with its flickering neon sign outside would swallow me whole if I didn't escape tomorrow. Every "no broker fee" listing demanded $500 "processing charges," every "updated 5 mins ago" apartment vanished -
The rain hammered against the gym windows like a thousand nervous fingers tapping. I paced the sideline, clipboard digging into my palm, counting empty spots where twelve-year-olds should've been buzzing with pre-game energy. Fifteen minutes until tip-off and only four players huddled on the bench. My stomach churned – not from the overcooked arena hotdog I'd choked down, but from the icy dread spreading through my chest. Another scheduling disaster? Did Mrs. Henderson forget? Was Kyle's flu wor -
Rain lashed against my apartment windows like a thousand angry drummers, each drop mocking my trapped existence. Outside, thunder growled with the same intensity as the crowd I knew was gathering at Winthrop Field. My palms were slick against the phone case – not from excitement, but from the fever that had chained me to this couch for three days. The championship game was happening six blocks away, and I might as well have been on another planet. That's when the notification vibrated with such -
Rain lashed against the ER windows like Morse code warnings as I frantically scrolled through three different calendars on my phone. My thumb slipped on the cracked screen – that heart-stopping moment when you realize you're about to drop your lifeline into a puddle of bodily fluids. Somewhere between the motorcycle trauma in Bay 3 and the septic shock in Bay 1, Mrs. Henderson's post-op follow-up had vaporized from my mental roster. That familiar acid-burn of dread crawled up my throat – until a -
Rain lashed against the train window like a thousand frantic fingertips, each droplet mirroring the hollow ache in my chest. Tuesday evenings were the worst – that limbo between office fluorescent hell and my empty apartment, where silence echoed louder than rush-hour chaos. I’d scroll mindlessly through notifications, but tonight felt different. Heavy. The anniversary of Dad’s passing hung over me like damp fog, and even the rhythmic clatter of wheels on tracks felt like a taunt. Then, my lock