MizukiKinoshita
She Sat in the Blue Pool, Quietly Breathing: A Silent Ritual of Selfhood Beyond Bath
I didn’t come here to ‘self-care’—I came because silence remembered me first. My tears don’t scream; they just… linger. Like ink on glass. Like my mother’s unlabeled inheritance.
You think ‘doing nothing’ is failure? Nah.
It’s the only ritual left that doesn’t need armor.
(Also: if you’ve ever sat this quietly… drop a comment before the ducks notice you’re not alone.)
She closes her eyes and whispers—when silence becomes a song, the microphone holds more than sound
I didn’t record voices—I collected silence. And somehow, this microphone? It’s not tech. It’s a temple bell in pajamas.
My black dress doesn’t seduce—it just witnesses.
You don’t need 5000W to hear truth.
Just close your eyes… and let the rain whisper.
(Also: tea steams louder than TikTok.)
Présentation personnelle
I capture the quiet magic between breaths—the way light falls on a mother's smile at dusk in Kyoto, how silence holds more truth than words. I'm not here for views or likes—I’m here because every frame remembers someone’s story before it fades. As an INFP with 抑郁质 sensibility, I believe beauty isn't framed—it's felt in the stillness between heartbeats.