Radish Bureau

recent posts

  • Under the same sun

    I just came back from free diving trip. I want to share some of the pictures here ☺️

    ‘ The things we share usually reflect our inner world — we give weight to what matters to us. And sometimes, we also share the inner world we hope others will see.’

    Attention reveals our heart.

    What matters to me ♡

    Sun, wind, earth, and sea. And the beings who live with us: sharks, mantas, sweetlips, other small creatures… and humans too.

    Moments floating between stillness and memory ♡


    I don’t have a camera, so many of these photos are by Nicholas Kouvaras, and my phone camera.

  • Do you like cooking?

    Do you like cooking? Baking, perhaps?
    I used to think those were my hobbies — until I realized they’re actually my rituals. The moments that keep me grounded.


    Here’s some of the food I’ve made

    Making udon

    And more ^^


    “Ordinary things start to feel alive when they’re done with intention, meaning, and presence.”


    The smell of butter from freshly baked cake, the scent of herbs while preparing them, every flow and movement — they remind me that life itself is sacred when we truly show up for it.

  • New Easel

    Finally, an easel for my butt!

    Almost three years, and I still can’t finish it 
     — just like me, bare and empty, I can’t find my head and heart.

  • Lotus in my studio

    The lotus in my studio has bloomed — my favorite flower since I was young. Today, I’m cooking with the lotus — using its leaves, petals, and seeds.

    Honoring every part of it, the way temple cooks once did.

    Steamed seasoned rice and sweet potato wrapped in lotus leaves.

    Petals for lotus tempura.

    My kitchen smells like nirvana (lol).

    Lotus seeds for dessert — with red dates, goji berries, chia seeds, and peach gum cooked in osmanthus sweet soup.

    And the smaller petals are infused together with green tea.

    Cooking helps ground me. It doesn’t
    feel like a chore, but more like a ritual,
    a way to return to myself.


    A star is born from a collapsing cloud.
    A lotus is born from the dark.
    Still, she rises — and blooms.
    We find beauty everywhere — from
    the universe to the smallest moment in life.

  • Making Fairy Wings


    Hi! With Halloween coming, I felt drawn to its mystery again. My sister and I decided to make fairy wings — delicate, shimmery, and magical ⋆˙⟡

  • I am Peranakan

    The Wounded One,
    The Rejected One.
    Their ehoes live in my blood,
    Sit in my bones,
    Passed down like a family heirloom.

    Why the pain?
    Is it because i was born peasant?
    Is it because I’m mixed?
    I grew up carrying silence.

    If truth is taboo,
    I will weave it into something beautiful.
    Where colors unfold stories,
    Each stitches is alive.

    We are the only creatures
    Who wear our pain
    Like armor-
    And still,
    We rise.

    This mini batik collection is my ancestors’ voices, my blood, my story. The Wounded One, the Rejected One, and I—we speak now through fabric. 

  • The Work That Shaped Me

    This page is a quiet tribute to the 12 years I spent as a dressmaker — a chapter that shaped who I am today.

    I learned two important lessons along the way:

    First, I’m grateful for the hard work and perseverance that taught me to love myself with confidence.

    Second, I realized I don’t need to change just to fit into society — embracing our authenticity is one of the truest paths to happiness.

  • Who?

    Who are these sensitive people?

    Where are they?

    Am I one of them?

  • Stardust

    If we are just stardust with consciousness,
    Why do we love like we are eternal?

  • The Scissor

    I walked naked — handing my sewing scissor to the people who hurt me.
    Yet they called me crazy, turning my truth into drama.

    Why do people hurt others for their own convenience,
    then get angry when confronted?

    They were the ones who asked me not to park my car in front of their house,
    and I listened. I kept my promise.
    But they were also the ones who parked in front of mine.

    The pain I felt didn’t come from parking —
    but from the justice they demanded from me
    while they were the ones who violated it.

    So, tell me — who should I trust?

    When I handed my sewing scissor, they felt offended.
    The person angrily said i was mean,
    for handing them my scissor and told them to kill me,
    just because they parked their car in front of my house.
    was it fear that they face, when i showed them honesty and vulnerability?
    for saying their actions were cutting me open,
    killing me quietly?

    Why don’t they just kill me, then?
    Wouldn’t it be better than watching them
    pile up sins — greed, selfishness, ignorance,
    and the slow decay of dignity?

    Is it a sin if I lay down my life
    and give permission for others to take it?

    Who decided life must always be protected
    when humans can’t even protect honesty, or integrity?

    Life exists — and also doesn’t.
    Like a forest: some trees die to become food and shelter for others.
    Sad, but true.
    Even the universe allows death,
    and makes room for parasites and predators alike.
    So why must we cling to life so desperately?

    Humans shout about justice and righteousness,
    but go silent in the face of truth.
    Even when a small voice inside whispers,
    we choose to ignore it —
    for the convenience of staying alive.