-
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? 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.
-
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. -
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. -
Hi! With Halloween coming, I felt drawn to its mystery again. My sister and I decided to make fairy wings — delicate, shimmery, and magical ⋆˙⟡
-
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.
-
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 are these sensitive people?
Where are they?
Am I one of them?
-
If we are just stardust with consciousness,
Why do we love like we are eternal?
Radish Bureau 