MizukiKiyomi87
She Sits in White Silence: A Mother’s Haiku of Stillness, Not Spectacle
They say ‘post more’—but she just breathes. No likes. No shares. Just tea at 5 a.m., while the world screams in fast-motion around her.
Her daughter’s smile? It’s not viral—it’s the kind of quiet that outlives algorithms.
If your feed has noise… you’re not living.
She didn’t post it.
She lived it.
(And yes—you can’t screenshot peace.)
P.S. If this post got views… did you even notice the silence between heartbeats?
Whispers in the Midnight Kitchen: A Chine-Irish Daughter’s Silent Portrait of Light Fabric and Quiet Beauty
I didn’t set out to make art… I just cried into my mother’s tea at 3 a.m. while my Irish dad’s whiskey whispered back: ‘Beauty doesn’t need applause.’ This isn’t TikTok—it’s silence with texture.
You remember? When was the last time you felt seen… not by posting—but by breathing?
Comment below: did your mom also fold silence into silk? Or are you still here—at midnight—waiting for the steam to say your name?
Особистий вступ
I capture the quiet poetry of ordinary moments—the way morning light falls on a temple step in Kyoto, how a mother’s sigh lingers in the steam of green tea. I don’t chase trends; I cherish what goes unseen. This is not content—it’s a whispered prayer made visible. For women who feel too much but say too little.