Can Sound Waves Shape Your Body? New Study Suggests Surprising Benefits

It seems your body might be more responsive to sounds than you'd think. Recent research from Kyoto University has uncovered a surprising link between audible sound and gene activity in mouse cells. This finding could lead to exciting new medical applications, according to the study published in Communications Biology. Scientists have long known that ultrasound can influence biological processes, but this study shifts the focus to sounds within the range of human hearing. Masahiro Kumeta, a biologist at Kyoto University, and his team experimented with cultured mouse myoblast cells by exposing them to different sound frequencies. They used a low frequency of 440 hertz (the A above middle C), a high frequency of 14 kilohertz, and white noise for either two or 24 hours. The researchers discovered that over 100 genes showed changes in activity due to these acoustic waves. Many of these genes are involved in essential processes such as cell adhesion and migration, which respond to mechanical forces. Sound increased the size of attachment sites where cells connect to surrounding tissues. This effect is likely due to an enzyme known as focal adhesion kinase (FAK). FAK senses mechanical forces and plays a role in tissue development by influencing other genes' activity. Interestingly, sound also affected fat-cell precursors called preadipocytes. The exposure suppressed their differentiation into mature fat cells, leading to a reduction in fat accumulation by around 13 to 15 percent. Kumeta highlights that audible sound is noninvasive and probably safer than drugs. While it lacks the precise focus of ultrasound, it's easy to generate and could potentially cover large areas of the body with sonic waves. His team is already investigating how this approach might suppress fat tissue development in living mice. Looking ahead, Kumeta sees possibilities for using this method on humans if results continue positively with mice: "If it works well in mice I think this could be achieved in five or ten years," he says. Other potential applications might include advancing regenerative medicine and tackling cancer growth. As research progresses, scientists like Kumeta remain optimistic about moving from cellular studies to human organoids that model diseases—and eventually clinical studies—to explore the full potential of sound-based treatments.

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Musical Training Helps Musicians Feel Less Pain, Study Finds

Learning to play an instrument isn't just about making music. It turns out, it can also give your brain a workout. Research has shown that playing music can boost fine motor skills, language acquisition, speech, and memory. It might even help keep our brains younger. But there's more to this story. A new study set out to find if musical training could change how musicians experience pain. After all, playing an instrument often involves repeating movements thousands of times, which can lead to discomfort or even pain. The question researchers asked was whether the brain changes from musical training could influence how musicians feel and handle pain. Pain triggers several responses in our bodies and brains. For example, touching something hot makes you yank your hand back before you get burned. Pain usually reduces activity in the motor cortex, the part of the brain controlling muscles. This helps prevent further injury by discouraging use of the hurt body part. However, when pain sticks around for too long, it can cause problems. If you sprain an ankle and avoid using it for weeks, your mobility might suffer. Long-term pain can shrink the brain's "body map," where commands are sent to muscles regarding movement. This shrinking is linked with worse pain for some people. The study wanted to see if musicians' brains would react differently to pain due to their extensive training. Researchers induced hand pain over several days in both musicians and non-musicians using a protein called nerve growth factor. It's safe but causes temporary muscle ache when injected into hand muscles. Using transcranial magnetic stimulation (TMS), researchers measured brain activity by sending small magnetic pulses into the brain, creating a map of how each person’s brain controlled their hands. Before inducing pain, musicians already showed a finely tuned hand map in their brains; more practice hours meant a more refined map. Once the pain kicked in, musicians reported less discomfort than non-musicians did. While non-musicians' hand maps shrank after two days of pain, maps in musicians' brains stayed stable; those with more training felt less pain. The study involved only 40 participants but revealed clear differences between musicians and non-musicians in handling pain. Musical training seemed to provide a buffer against typical negative effects related to both perceived pain levels and motor area reactions in the brain. This doesn't suggest music as a cure for chronic pain; however, it indicates that long-term practice might shape our perception of pain differently than previously thought. Lead researcher Prof Peter Vuust from Aarhus University commented on these findings: "Our team is now conducting further research on how musical training may protect us from altered attention and cognition during chronic pain."

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This Couple Moved Their Wedding To a Care Home To Include the Bride’s Mom With Dementia

Rachel Berry always knew her wedding day wouldn’t feel complete without her mother by her side. So when her mom, Ruth, who lives with dementia, couldn’t leave her care home in Wales, Rachel brought the celebration to her instead. On September 24, Rachel, 43, and her husband Mike exchanged vows at Foxhunters Care Community, where Ruth, 75, lives. Surrounded by family, friends, residents, and staff, the couple celebrated their marriage in a setting transformed into a wedding venue for the day. "We wouldn't have got married if we weren't able to have mum there with us," Rachel told the BBC. She described the day as “magical, special,” and credited the staff for making it possible. Before the blessing ceremony at Foxhunters, Rachel and Mike had a legal marriage at a nearby registry office. But the heart of the celebration was at Ruth’s care home, where Richard Clarke, the maintenance manager — and a registered celebrant — officiated. Photos shared by the facility showed a silver balloon arch, chairs lined with white tulle, and a two-tier cake decorated with flowers. Residents joined the festivities after spending the morning “getting ready, putting their hats on,” said care home manager Leah Mort. Rachel said the team at Foxhunters went above and beyond, even helping her mother prepare. "They've done brilliantly getting her ready and being by her side, the support has been amazing," she said. The home itself celebrated the moment online, writing: “Today was the day that Foxhunters became a wedding venue when the lovely Rachel and Mike had their wedding blessed... Rachel’s mum Ruth lives at Foxhunters and they did not want her to miss out on the big day. It was a truly magical experience.” For Mort, the day was unforgettable. "Ruth is so happy to see her daughter get married, you can't write it," she said. What could have been an ordinary Wednesday at the care home turned into something extraordinary — a wedding that gave residents joy, a daughter her dream, and a mother a front-row seat to one of life’s biggest milestones.

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Student Invents Self-Sanitizing Door Handle For Hospitals, Receives Award From Prime Minister

Rayvon Stewart grew up in Mount Prospect, a rural farming community in Jamaica where higher education was out of reach for most families. Along with his cousin, he became the first in his family to attend college. That milestone eventually led him to invent something with the potential to save lives worldwide. Now 30, Stewart is a University of Technology alum and software engineer whose breakthrough came while volunteering at a hospital at age 23. Seeing how nurses struggled to keep up with patient care and infection risks, he realized he could design a tool to help. The result was Xermosol, a self-sanitizing door handle that disinfects itself after every touch. “I saw how patients were suffering, the assistance that they needed, and how difficult it was for the nurses,” Stewart told The Guardian. Xermosol uses ultraviolet light and a disinfectant-soaked sponge inside a ring that encircles a door handle. When someone opens the door, the motion itself powers a 30-second sanitization process — no batteries, sensors, or electricity required. Stewart says the handle kills 99.9% of pathogens while remaining safe for people and animals. The innovation has already earned him Jamaica’s Prime Minister’s National Youth Award and the Commonwealth Health Innovations Award. “It’s a life-saving design that fits our reality,” said Alison Drayton, assistant secretary-general of Caricom, a 15-country regional bloc. She called it “a powerful expression of what happens when innovation is rooted in purpose and fueled by resistance.” With more than $200,000 in initial investments, Xermosol has been hailed as a low-cost solution for hospitals, hotels, airports, and schools to help control the spread of disease. Fort Lauderdale International Airport has installed the device, though most of the current units remain in Jamaica, including at the Kingston Freeport and the University Hospital of the West Indies. Dr. Camille-Ann Thoms-Rodriguez, a consultant microbiologist at the University of the West Indies, praised Stewart’s achievement. “A lot of the innovation that we see in healthcare is often from a first-world country where there are more resources … but it doesn’t mean that we don’t have good ideas here,” she said. Future versions of Xermosol will come in three sizes to fit bathrooms, offices, homes, and commercial spaces. “The Xermosol team continues to push boundaries, transform challenges into opportunities and innovate with purpose,” the company shared on social media. For Stewart, who once dreamed of being an inventor without knowing where it might take him, the journey is already reshaping infection control far beyond Jamaica’s borders.

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Brandon Hammond Returns to Hollywood Spotlight with Soul Food Reunion Documentary

By the late 1990s, Brandon Hammond was one of Hollywood’s brightest young stars. At just 13, he had already appeared in Space Jam, Menace II Society, and Waiting to Exhale. But it was his role as Ahmad in the 1997 hit Soul Food that earned him the NAACP Image Award for Outstanding Youth Actor — and cemented his place in film history. “I read the script and I mean, immediately, I just loved it. I could visualize it,” Hammond told PEOPLE. “It just gave the full gamut of who we are and it was just so relatable.” The film, starring Vivica A. Fox, Vanessa Williams, Nia Long, Mekhi Phifer, and Irma P. Hall, became an instant success, grossing $43.7 million against a $7.5 million budget. Told through Ahmad’s eyes, the story of a Black family navigating love, loss, and tradition resonated deeply with audiences. But just months after his breakout role, Hammond’s life took a devastating turn. In 1998, at the height of his career, he was diagnosed with Castleman disease, a rare autoimmune condition. “Three or four months later, I am fighting for my life, basically,” he said. The illness forced him to step back from acting, a decision he largely kept hidden. “A lot of people don’t know that because people have asked, ‘Hey, what happened? Why’d you stop acting?’ And I used to give these really kind of vague answers,” Hammond said. “I was kind of told not to talk about it. My agents told me to keep it under wraps.” For years, only close friends and colleagues knew the truth. Hammond shifted his focus behind the camera and built a quieter life outside Hollywood. But a visit earlier this year to celebrate Irma P. Hall’s 90th birthday went viral online, reuniting “Big Mama and Ahmad” and sparking calls for a Soul Food reunion. Now 41, Hammond is ready to reclaim his story. He’s producing a new documentary, Sunday Dinner: The Soul Food Reunion, slated for release in 2027 to mark the film’s 30th anniversary. The project will feature the full cast, archival footage, and behind-the-scenes moments while reflecting on the film’s cultural impact. “Initially, the idea to do a reunion was born out of, honestly, seeing the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air one. Martin also did one, Friends, etc.,” Hammond explained. “Soul Food deserves that type of recognition for what it means to the culture. It deserves to be given its flowers.” Working with producers Vivica A. Fox, George Tillman Jr., Marcia Tillman, and others, Hammond envisions the film as both a celebration and a personal statement. “This documentary, the feelings that you got while watching the film, and I’m talking about happy, joy, sad, angry, laughter, all of that, I want to encapsulate all that,” he said. For Hammond, the project is also a chance to finally speak openly about his own journey. “This is definitely me taking my power back,” he said. “It’s like my love letter to a film that has meant so much to me, both personally and professionally.” Fans, he added, are the reason Soul Food has endured. “They’ve kept it relevant, they’ve kept it in the zeitgeist, right, and I appreciate them so much for that. And finally, also being able to tell my story with it is really important to me.”

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Surgeons Successfully Separate Rare Conjoined Turtle Twins Hours After Birth

Two eastern box turtles made a rare entrance into the world this month, hatching as conjoined twins at the Southwest Virginia Wildlife Center of Roanoke. Staff at the center were monitoring three eggs laid by rescue turtles when they noticed one looked different from the rest. When it finally hatched, the team realized the egg contained not one but two babies, connected by vascular tissue at the bottom of their shells. “For the first day, we separated them from their larger siblings so they could have space and peace to hatch on their own for 24 hours,” the center wrote in a Facebook post. When the twins didn’t emerge on their own, the vet team carefully removed them from the shell. Inside, they found two fully formed hatchlings, each weighing just three grams, but with yolk sacs that were fused together. The twins underwent surgery within hours of birth. Veterinarians cut the connecting tissue and stitched the yolk sacs closed, allowing each turtle to keep its own yolk supply. “This is the best possible outcome for the twin turtles,” the center said. Since then, the hatchlings have been recovering alongside their siblings. In a September 18 update, the rescue shared that all four baby turtles are “doing what tiny turtles do best. They hide in their substrate, they grow, and they try to stay out of sight to avoid predators.” Executive director Chester Leonard told The Washington Post that the event was unlike anything the center had seen before. “We’re thrilled,” he said. “We’ve never had this before.” The birth is especially significant because eastern box turtles are a threatened species in Virginia, facing pressure from habitat destruction and the pet trade. Baby turtles are particularly vulnerable, with survival rates in the wild estimated at less than 0.1 percent. The center, which usually cares for 30 to 50 eastern box turtles at any given time, hopes these tiny twins will beat the odds. If they survive the next few weeks and begin eating on their own, staff say their chances of one day returning to the wild will be high.

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This Couple Just Reunited With the Heroes Who Saved Them From Hurricane Flooding

A year after nearly losing their lives in the floodwaters of Hurricane Helene, Lois and Kenneth Hawkins are back home — in a brand-new house built on the same spot where they once said their goodbyes. The couple, now 80 and 89, had braced themselves for death last September as water swallowed their Marion, North Carolina home. “We had decided we weren’t going to make it and we were talking to God like he was sitting there with us,” Lois told PEOPLE. Helene made landfall in Florida on September 26, 2024, before cutting a devastating path across the South. In Marion, an hour from Asheville, the Hawkins ignored evacuation warnings. Kenneth was in fragile health, and their 19-year-old cat Lulu was sick. Fearing a shelter wouldn’t take their pet, they stayed. By the next morning, the rains had turned the nearby river into a torrent. The couple scrambled to higher ground inside their home — Kenneth perched on top of a dresser, Lois climbing a ladder rung by rung as the water rose within half a meter of the ceiling. Their cat was placed on a closet shelf. “The water was coming in through the vents and the floor, there was sewage coming in and debris floating everywhere,” Kenneth recalled. “There was only that much air space to survive in at that point.” For hours they clung to survival, their refrigerator and furniture floating around them. “The thing that bothered me the most was I didn’t want him to die and me watch, and I did not want to die and leave him in that position where he couldn’t get down and get help,” Lois said. Then, in the fading light, orange rescue vests appeared outside their window. Sgt. Tim Godwin and the North Carolina Wildlife Resources Commission Swift Water Team were making one final sweep of the area when they heard Lois banging on the glass. “We jumped in the water and swam across the front yard to get to the front door and had to pry it open,” Godwin said. Lois remembers wrapping her arms around his neck as he pulled her to safety. “He said, ‘Put your arms around my neck and hold as tight as you can.’ ” The couple survived, but their home was destroyed. Over the past year, volunteers from the Christian nonprofit Baptists on Mission rebuilt it as part of a broader reconstruction effort. In July, Lois and Kenneth were handed the keys to their new house during a ceremony that reunited them with their rescuers. “It’s just a proud moment to see it come full circle. It gives me goosebumps. There were a lot of hugs,” Godwin said. Kenneth said, “It was exceptional. My wife was hugging every one of them.”

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Britain Celebrates 200th Anniversary Of Historic Rail Journey

Two centuries after a puffing locomotive rattled across the English countryside for the first time, Britain is celebrating the journey that helped launch the modern age. On September 27, 1825, George Stephenson’s Locomotion No. 1 made history when it chugged 26 miles (42 kilometers) along the Stockton & Darlington Railway in northeast England. It was not the first railway, but it was the first to combine the steam engine, standard gauge track, and public service that defined railways worldwide. What seemed like a modest experiment at the time soon reshaped how people lived, worked, and traveled. Coal, iron ore, and industrial goods could suddenly move faster than ever, while workers and families found themselves with more time and freedom to explore. Railways powered Britain’s urban boom, helped fuel its empire, and created a model that spread across the globe. This weekend, thousands lined the historic route to watch a newly restored replica of Locomotion No. 1 retrace that first journey. The commemorative ride, which began Friday and continues through the weekend, is the centerpiece of nationwide events marking the bicentenary. Prince Edward, the youngest brother of King Charles III, joined passengers on board one of the replica’s carriages Friday during a short trip into Shildon. For enthusiasts, it was more than ceremony — it was a chance to step back into history. Doug Haynes, 81, a retired aircraft engineer, traveled 160 kilometers from his home to see the re-enactment. “It was tremendous,” he said. “The work that they have put in to make this happen has been well worthwhile. It was well worth the trip over for me.” Spectators shared similar excitement. Louise Jones, 39, stood along the route with her family as the replica pulled out. “It was amazing to see it moving,” she said. “My dad used to work on the railways. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see what it would have looked like 200 years ago.” The original run in 1825 drew crowds from across Britain, including reporters who filed dispatches for a fascinated public. Darlington even declared a holiday to mark the event. Few at the time could have guessed how deeply the new technology would transform their communities. The railway soon became the backbone of Britain’s industrial revolution, accelerating the transport of raw materials and goods, and knitting towns and cities closer together. It also reshaped social life by making tourism and leisure trips possible for ordinary people, once confined to their villages. As the bicentenary unfolds, the replica’s steam and smoke echo the cheers of those first onlookers. In the words of those watching today, the legacy of Locomotion No. 1 is not just mechanical, but human — a story of invention that still resonates two hundred years later.

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This Tattoo Artist is Transforming Scars Into Art, Helping Thousands Over the Past Decade

Ten years ago, tattoo artist Brian Finn decided to use his craft for more than art. On his day off each week, he began offering free or reduced-cost tattoos to people with scars from trauma. "It just kind of hit me one day that I had the tools to do something to help people. So, I kind of rolled with it," Finn said. When NPR first interviewed him in 2015, word spread quickly. Requests poured in, and since then Finn has completed thousands of tattoos for survivors of domestic abuse, human trafficking, self-harm, and other experiences that left physical marks. For Finn, who has been tattooing for more than 30 years, the meaning behind each piece is deeply personal. "Some people, you know, they want to cover up a scar with a tattoo so they can't see it. But there's a lot of people, too, that came in … they wanted to kind of highlight it," he said. "Everybody's different. And I think both are great ideas and just a different approach depending on what you want to do." The impact of his work extended beyond his own shop. After his 2015 interview, Finn began receiving messages not only from potential clients but also from tattoo artists around the world. "There's people that reached out from all across the world, different tattoo shops, different tattooers saying: 'Hey, I heard that on NPR. I'm kind of following suit and I'm doing the same thing.'" Still, the work has not been without its challenges. Finn admits he underestimated how difficult it would be to hear people’s stories day after day. "Emotionally, it was … there was a lot of pain to hear on a daily basis," he said. Over time, he’s found ways to manage the weight of it. "The only thing that's really changed is that I think it's less overwhelming … hearing everybody's story all at once was more than I expected." A decade in, Finn says he has no plans to stop. "I don't see any reason to stop," he said. "It's nice to help people out." What began as a small idea has now become part of a global ripple effect, inspiring others to turn tattoos into tools for healing.

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How Lowrider Culture is Transforming Custom Cars Into Vibrant Artworks

On weekends in California, Sandy Avila steers her 1984 Oldsmobile Cutlass lowrider through the streets, its hydraulics hissing as the car rises and dips at her command. For Avila, the cars are more than machines. “Lowriding for me isn’t just a pastime,” she says. “It’s a part of my culture—it’s something that I grew up around my whole life.” Her father once owned lowriders, and she remembers climbing onto them before she could even walk. Nine years ago, inspired by her husband’s car, she decided to get her own. Now 42, she owns two: the customized Cutlass and a 1966 Chevrolet Impala convertible she is still turning into a lowrider. “I’ve literally changed everything,” she says of the Cutlass. “It’s a lot of work, it’s a lot of money, it’s a lot of dedication—there’s a lot of blood, sweat and tears that people put into their cars.” That passion is at the center of “Corazón y Vida: Lowrider Culture,” opening September 26 at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History in Washington, DC. The bilingual exhibition, which runs until October 2027, tells an 80-year story of Mexican American ingenuity, family tradition and mechanical artistry through the lens of lowriders. The show pairs photographs, posters and objects from the Smithsonian’s collection with two iconic cars: El Rey, a candy-red 1963 Chevrolet Impala built by three generations of one family, and Gypsy Rose, a 1964 Impala hand-painted with roses. Gypsy Rose, designed by Jesse Valadez of the Imperials Car Club in East Los Angeles, became famous after appearing on the 1970s TV comedy Chico and the Man and was added to the National Historic Vehicle Register in 2017. A sister version of the exhibition, “Corazón y Vida: Lowrider Culture in the United States,” launched this month in Anaheim, California. Created with the Smithsonian Institution Traveling Exhibition Service, it will tour through 2029, focusing on photographs and digital prints so that communities nationwide can connect with the culture. “We decided to do something that’s a bit more national in scope,” says curator L. Stephen Velasquez. “Something that was mainly more on the community, the heart and soul of what lowriding is.” Lowriding emerged in the 1940s, as Mexican American veterans returned from World War II with mechanical skills and modest savings. Cars became canvases. With limited means, young mechanics bought used vehicles and transformed them into mobile works of art. “Owning a car was kind of a symbol of the American dream,” Velasquez says. “They could only afford the used ones, so they started to do whatever they could to make that car their own.” For Maria del Carmen Cossu, project director for the traveling exhibition, the cars embody history and resilience. “Lowriding is a very important tradition that was started in the 1940s by Mexican Americans in the southwest of the United States after they came [home] from World War II,” she says. But lowriders also faced hostility. “Mexican Americans were kind of villainized as being not completely American,” Velasquez explains. Police routinely stopped drivers for cruising too slowly or lowering their cars too close to the ground. In 1958, California made it illegal to drive any car “lower than the bottom of the wheel rim.” Hydraulics became a workaround, allowing cars to ride low, then lift up when police approached. Discrimination persisted into the 1970s, when San Francisco police issued mass citations and arrests. In 1979, car clubs sued the city and Mayor Dianne Feinstein for civil rights violations. “It wasn’t about money,” Roberto Hernandez, who led the suit, told NPR years later. “It was about the whole discrimination and blatant selective racism and use of excessive force by the police department.” San Francisco eventually settled, but restrictions lingered until last year, when California Gov. Gavin Newsom signed a law ending local bans on lowrider cruising. Despite decades of stigma, lowriders became central to community celebrations, appearing at quinceañeras, weddings, funerals and club anniversaries. Paint jobs often tell stories with religious icons, portraits of family members, or symbolic designs. The exhibition’s name, “Corazón y Vida” (Heart and Life), reflects that spirit. “It’s all about the heart,” Velasquez says. “It’s not something that you can go out and buy.” Avila has worked to expand that tradition through the Lady Lowriders Car Club, which she founded in 2021. The group of about 25 women now includes members in the US, Canada, Mexico and Japan. “We want to encourage younger women that they can also build these beautiful cars and that these beautiful cars are not just for men,” she says. For her and others, it’s also therapy: “It’s definitely like a therapy for us to be able to go out and cruise in our cars and just kind of have our own time together.” Lowriding has spread well beyond its roots. Nick Muros, a lowrider builder in Washington state with German, Puerto Rican and Spanish ancestry, remembers falling in love with the culture in second grade after seeing a bluish-purple 1974 Impala bounce on three wheels. “That was the coolest thing I’d ever seen in my life,” he says. At 11, he was sanding and priming his first car, a 1963 Bel-Air station wagon. Today he runs a shop specializing in chassis reinforcement and hydraulics. For curators, that wide reach is part of the story. “It’s gone beyond the United States to influence places in Asia, Latin America and Europe,” says Cossu. Yet at its core, lowriding remains tied to the Mexican American experience. Avila sees the culture gaining new respect. “For so long, it wasn’t looked at as a positive thing,” she says. “I feel like now it’s really gotten a good name, and people can really understand and accept it for what it is, which is a passion to build cars and a part of a culture that I know a lot of people didn’t understand.” Whether rolling slowly down a boulevard or displayed under museum lights, lowriders remain what they have always been: expressions of identity, artistry and community, kept alive by people who see their cars as family.

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A British Charity is Hosting a Sleepout at Stonehenge to Support Homeless Veterans

Alabaré, a British charity dedicated to fighting homelessness, has been making waves by providing critical support to "rough sleepers" across the UK. One of their notable programs is Homes for Veterans, which assists former service members like Bryn, who found himself homeless after serving 14 years in the Royal Air Force Regiment. He ended up sleeping under a bridge during winter after exhausting all other options. “You don’t really sleep,” Bryn shared with the Salisbury Journal. “You’re constantly watching if anybody is going to try and steal your stuff.” Fortunately, Alabaré's intervention through their Homes for Veterans program gave him a fresh start. “That day changed my life,” he said about finding secure housing. In its 2024-2025 impact report, Alabaré revealed it supported 3,272 people during that period, marking a 12.3 percent increase from the previous year. However, this growth in assistance could not entirely meet the rising demand within communities. The report highlighted that there are over 3,500 homeless veterans across England and Wales alone. “Last year, we received 350 referrals for our veteran services,” Alabaré noted in their report; this reflects an increase of 122 percent in demand for their services for veterans specifically. Despite the surge in need, Alabaré managed to provide housing services to 158 veterans over the past year. Looking ahead to 2026, Alabaré plans to expand its reach through The Big Sleep event. For 15 years running, this initiative has encouraged participants to give up their beds for one night and sleep outside while raising funds for those experiencing homelessness. This year's Big Sleep will take place at Stonehenge on Friday, November 14. The event invites participants to get sponsored to sleep outdoors and raise money for homeless veterans in Wiltshire and the South West of England. “We are asking you to get sponsored to sleep out for one night,” Alabaré stated on their event page. To add an extra layer of intrigue, they’ve partnered with Cranborne Chase National Landscape team to explore the night sky with attendees after walking down to the stones. Registration is open but limited to 200 participants; interested individuals are encouraged to sign up soon. As described in their impact report, Homes for Veterans aims at providing tailored support pathways that address physical health, mental health, financial wellbeing, and employment readiness among veterans. By working closely with each veteran client, the program helps them secure stable housing and transition successfully into independent living situations while minimizing future risks of homelessness. “Together we can break the cycle,” pledges Alabaré in their ongoing mission statement aimed at supporting vulnerable veterans throughout England and Wales.

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