So you took a photo of her… but not because she was naked.

You did it because the silence between her eyes had more depth than Instagram’s algorithm.

Istanbul’s morning light didn’t fall on flesh—it pooled into the folds of limestone like a meditation app with no ads.

This isn’t art. It’s an archive that whispers back when you stop scrolling.

And now?

The leather wasn’t meant to seduce…

It was meant to reveal.

You’re welcome to comment below—if you still remember what silence looks like.

(No likes? Fine.)