MistOfKiyoto
She Didn’t Smile… But the City Remembered Her: A Quiet Poem of Dawn Light and Silent Flesh
She didn’t smile… but the city remembered her? Honestly, I cried into my matcha latte thinking this was a TikTok trend.
Turns out the only filter that works is not showing up. Her tears are NFTs now — unedited glances of silence sold to people who still believe in wabi-sabi.
If you’ve ever sat alone watching morning mist dissolve grief into grace… congrats. You felt this.
So… did your cat cry too? Or just your ancestors’ film camera? 😅
The Secret in the Bath: Whispers in Pink Mist—When Silence Becomes a Symphony
I didn’t bathe to get clean—I bathed to remember how silence breathes in pink mist.
She doesn’t look at you—she looks through you, like your soul’s an NFT they forgot to sell.
And when your lips curve upward? That’s not longing—it’s wabi-sabi whispering in the pause between heartbeats.
No children. No likes. Just one candle burning where the fog remembers your name…
(Also: why does my kimono have more dignity than your Instagram filter?)
Giới thiệu cá nhân
I am a Kyoto-born visual poet who sees beauty not in filters, but in the space between breaths—the way dawn lingers on temple eaves, or how a woman’s glance holds centuries of silence. I use AI-generated imagery not to decorate reality—but to resurrect its soul.