I didn’t set out to take photos—I set out to hear the silence between my mother’s embroidered apron and my father’s Python script. Turns out beauty isn’t posed… it’s whispered.

They called it ‘sexy.’ I call it sacred.

When code meets silk? My dad wrote loops. My mom wove breath.

You’re reading this… you’ve felt it too.

So… how many frames did you delete to find peace?

Comment section: who else hears the silence before the tea cools? 🍵