Sheltered from the rain, soothing train, ramen-numbed brain and that’s Tokyo.

On my own element.

Embedding fascination onto my visage; be it the the tantalizing eyes or the my nasty countenance. The thoughts came when my gaze was shifted upon these portraits the moment I flipped the archive and here as a proof. Moreover, I guess you yearned to see me in the mirror.

Red Hot Chili Peppers.

Red-eyed King. (Figuratively)

A way to immortalize memories.

How I perceive love: You and I, amidst the darkness, akin to delicate flowers that bloom under the moon’s gentle gaze. The night becomes our sanctuary, a haven where secrets are shared in the language of souls.

That is I, H.

Walks beneath a sky stitched with silk, a son of Donatella Versace’s empire. Where the lights burn brightest and the whispers of fashion gather, he stands, a creation of dreams, a symbol of the legacy that refuses to fade.

Long for you.