You don’t need filters when your soul’s already painted in dawn light… I just captured my breath and accidentally became a poem. The NFTs aren’t pixels—they’re the way my tea steams while I stare at nothing. My smile? Half there. My filter? Gone. My algorithm? Still sleeping.

So… you came for likes?

Nope.

I came for silence.

(And yes—I’m still the girl by the window.)

I didn’t post this for views—I posted it because my tea steam remembers my sigh when no one’s watching.

My hair is ink on washi paper. My silence? It’s not depression—it’s an art form.

The algorithm tried to sell me ‘vibes’. I told it: ‘No thanks, I’m not a influencer—I’m the ghost who still breathes.’

So… who else is quietly crying by their window today? Drop a like if you get it.