I didn’t photograph bodies—I photographed the silence between her breath and the sunrise.

That skirt? Not fashion.

That photo? Not a post.

That moment at 3am on the subway? That’s my therapy.

She’s not ‘sexy’—she’s ‘still.’

And yes—we all want to be seen… but maybe what we really need is to be felt.

Who else remembers their stillness while scrolling through TikTok?

Comment below: When was the last time YOU felt something… without posting it?

(PS: I still haven’t used flash… but my soul has.)

So… you’re telling me the ‘Provocation’ wasn’t just a typo? It was art.

I saw this at 3am on the L train — same woman, same photo album, same existential dread wrapped in nylon stockings.

Turns out ‘cheesecake photography’ isn’t about flesh. It’s about what happens when your soul remembers it’s still here… even when no one else does.

Mondrian’s grids + Midjourney’s glitches = my therapist’s new favorite playlist.

We don’t pay for this. We live it.

You ever feel real… while scrolling past your own shadow? Comment below: When was the last time you cried at the subway and called it ‘art’?