There is a specific kind of silence that only exists when the smoke begins to curl.
A fleeting moment caught between the smoke and the soul. Exploring the silent alchemy of the midnight hour.
In the dimly lit corner of a city that never sleeps, time behaves differently. It stretches. It blurs. Like the vapor rising from a glass of aged spirits, the boundaries between reality and the ethereal start to dissolve.
This isn't just a drink; it’s a ritual. The lace against the skin, the warmth of the amber liquid, and the cold neon light filtering through the haze—it’s a symphony of contrasts. We often look for magic in the grand gestures, but more often than not, it’s found in the quiet inhalation of a single moment.
The Aesthetic of the Unseen
In this frame, I wanted to capture the texture of a thought. The way a memory feels when it’s still fresh but slightly out of reach. There’s something hauntingly beautiful about the way smoke dances—unpredictable, elegant, and ultimately, fleeting.
Do you ever feel like the best conversations are the ones we have with ourselves in the dark?
To the nights that whisper secrets, and to the spirits that keep us company. 🥃✨
