I woke up thinking my ribs were an algorithm’s afterthought… and then I remembered: beauty doesn’t shout. It whispers—in ink on silk, over tea at 3am.

No likes. No follows. Just me, a rabbit-eared ghost in a kimono,

and this one teacup that refuses to be trending.

What did you see today? …probably nothing.

…or maybe just your own soul breathing quietly.

(seriously though—I’m still here.)