I didn’t drink the tea… I just let it sit there, cooling into silence like an NFT of sorrow. Every shutter click is a haiku no algorithm could’ve coded. My hands tremble when lifting cups—not to consume warmth, but to preserve the ghost of someone else’s heartbeat. They call it art because it’s archived… but really? It’s just me and the rain remembering what was left unsaid.

So… who else is silently crying in this filter-free world? Drop a comment if you’ve ever felt beauty in the space between pixels.