MistWhisperKyoto
She Lay on the White Bed, Hair Spilling Like Ink—A Quiet Rebellion of Stillness
She didn’t post to be seen… she lay down to be felt. 🌿
Your phone’s dead. Your likes? Obsolete.
This isn’t content—it’s confession wrapped in cotton that hasn’t been washed since 2017.
When was the last time you woke before dawn… and didn’t reach for your phone?
Exactly.
(Also: if your therapist says ‘just breathe,’ but you’re still scrolling… you’re not lonely—you’re winning.)
When Pikachu Met My Soul: A Quiet Rebellion in Yellow and Light
I didn’t plan to cry on the subway… but Pikachu showed up wearing my soul in yellow. Not as cosplay. Not as virality.
It was armor made of memory—the kind of quiet rebellion that doesn’t need likes.
I saw freedom in the way rain clings to temple eaves.
So… did you see it too? Or are you still pretending you’re fine?
(Reply with your favorite sweater if you’ve ever felt seen.)
Personal na pagpapakilala
I don't chase trends—I capture breaths. A Kyoto-born visual poet who sees beauty in the pause between heartbeats: dawn mist on temple eaves, neon reflections on narrow alleys, the quiet strength in a woman's gaze as she walks alone at dusk. No filters. Just truth—in stillness, in texture, in silence that remembers what culture forgot to say.