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slightlycaptivated
𝖏𝖚𝖑𝖎𝖆𝖓 𝖆𝖑𝖊𝖈𝖝𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗
Author & image maker; Sentimentalist by trade
Strength through openness and vulnerability.
NYC ↔️ LA
Demo reel consisting of my (beauty/fashion) video work for @randytran.photography
A tremendous and warm thank you to everyone that had been involved in the process. You are all the real mvp’s 🤙 (I will dig my old emails for call sheets and tag).
Demo reel consisting of my (beauty/fashion) video work for @randytran.photography
A tremendous and warm thank you to everyone that had been involved in the process. You are all the real mvp’s 🤙 (I will dig my old emails for call sheets and tag).
Demo reel consisting of my (beauty/fashion) video work for @randytran.photography
A tremendous and warm thank you to everyone that had been involved in the process. You are all the real mvp’s 🤙 (I will dig my old emails for call sheets and tag).
Demo reel consisting of my (beauty/fashion) video work for @randytran.photography
A tremendous and warm thank you to everyone that had been involved in the process. You are all the real mvp’s 🤙 (I will dig my old emails for call sheets and tag).
Demo reel consisting of my (beauty/fashion) video work for @randytran.photography
A tremendous and warm thank you to everyone that had been involved in the process. You are all the real mvp’s 🤙 (I will dig my old emails for call sheets and tag).
Demo reel consisting of my (beauty/fashion) video work for @randytran.photography
A tremendous and warm thank you to everyone that had been involved in the process. You are all the real mvp’s 🤙 (I will dig my old emails for call sheets and tag).
Demo reel consisting of my (beauty/fashion) video work for @randytran.photography
A tremendous and warm thank you to everyone that had been involved in the process. You are all the real mvp’s 🤙 (I will dig my old emails for call sheets and tag).
Demo reel consisting of my (beauty/fashion) video work for @randytran.photography
A tremendous and warm thank you to everyone that had been involved in the process. You are all the real mvp’s 🤙 (I will dig my old emails for call sheets and tag).
Demo reel consisting of my (beauty/fashion) video work for @randytran.photography
A tremendous and warm thank you to everyone that had been involved in the process. You are all the real mvp’s 🤙 (I will dig my old emails for call sheets and tag).
Demo reel consisting of my (beauty/fashion) video work for @randytran.photography
A tremendous and warm thank you to everyone that had been involved in the process. You are all the real mvp’s 🤙 (I will dig my old emails for call sheets and tag).
Feeling flirty this spring🕺🌸
Talent: @loevangelist
MUA: @candid0.exe_mua
Shot at: @misestudio.nyc
After being gored and hollowed out by machine and having my blood replaced with gasoline, I still believe in the healing power of love
After being gored and hollowed out by machine and having my blood replaced with gasoline, I still believe in the healing power of love
After being gored and hollowed out by machine and having my blood replaced with gasoline, I still believe in the healing power of love
After being gored and hollowed out by machine and having my blood replaced with gasoline, I still believe in the healing power of love
After being gored and hollowed out by machine and having my blood replaced with gasoline, I still believe in the healing power of love
After being gored and hollowed out by machine and having my blood replaced with gasoline, I still believe in the healing power of love
After being gored and hollowed out by machine and having my blood replaced with gasoline, I still believe in the healing power of love
After being gored and hollowed out by machine and having my blood replaced with gasoline, I still believe in the healing power of love
After being gored and hollowed out by machine and having my blood replaced with gasoline, I still believe in the healing power of love
After being gored and hollowed out by machine and having my blood replaced with gasoline, I still believe in the healing power of love
After being gored and hollowed out by machine and having my blood replaced with gasoline, I still believe in the healing power of love
After being gored and hollowed out by machine and having my blood replaced with gasoline, I still believe in the healing power of love
I’m fighting drowsiness and the lethargy that begs me to fall asleep. To fall in love. It does me no good after midnight where the spell of temptation harps and hums a purring melody softer than the sound of my name. I wish to write back, unfiltered and without hesitation. “You” deserve no second guessing. So as I battle these armies of sheep that demand me of sleep, I command this last strip of lucidity before I am drowned in their wool. It’s so soft. Warm. Just like you. I can’t go back to where you are. I’m needed elsewhere, despite how much I love you. Don’t forgive me.
I’m aware of these changes. I’m becoming unrecognizable under self scrutiny. I disallow myself expression of my truth. But I am held by reins of pursuing pleasure. Nothing that I am does not interest me — and we have shared too much. Too alike.
My words escape me because the moment they are materialized, they lose meaning. Perhaps the quantification of words and feelings are something only helmed by the divine. But I forget the divine is here. I imagine one day that steel will outline my flesh in impenetrable machinery and encase these bones in the immortal shell of circuitry, but words — language, surpasses the original birth and Eden. When flesh decays and the iron casings rust, and the wings are snipped off, there will only be dust. Words cannot ever truly die. Only found again. Perhaps, us among them.
- excerpt from my substack
I’m fighting drowsiness and the lethargy that begs me to fall asleep. To fall in love. It does me no good after midnight where the spell of temptation harps and hums a purring melody softer than the sound of my name. I wish to write back, unfiltered and without hesitation. “You” deserve no second guessing. So as I battle these armies of sheep that demand me of sleep, I command this last strip of lucidity before I am drowned in their wool. It’s so soft. Warm. Just like you. I can’t go back to where you are. I’m needed elsewhere, despite how much I love you. Don’t forgive me.
I’m aware of these changes. I’m becoming unrecognizable under self scrutiny. I disallow myself expression of my truth. But I am held by reins of pursuing pleasure. Nothing that I am does not interest me — and we have shared too much. Too alike.
My words escape me because the moment they are materialized, they lose meaning. Perhaps the quantification of words and feelings are something only helmed by the divine. But I forget the divine is here. I imagine one day that steel will outline my flesh in impenetrable machinery and encase these bones in the immortal shell of circuitry, but words — language, surpasses the original birth and Eden. When flesh decays and the iron casings rust, and the wings are snipped off, there will only be dust. Words cannot ever truly die. Only found again. Perhaps, us among them.
- excerpt from my substack
I’m fighting drowsiness and the lethargy that begs me to fall asleep. To fall in love. It does me no good after midnight where the spell of temptation harps and hums a purring melody softer than the sound of my name. I wish to write back, unfiltered and without hesitation. “You” deserve no second guessing. So as I battle these armies of sheep that demand me of sleep, I command this last strip of lucidity before I am drowned in their wool. It’s so soft. Warm. Just like you. I can’t go back to where you are. I’m needed elsewhere, despite how much I love you. Don’t forgive me.
I’m aware of these changes. I’m becoming unrecognizable under self scrutiny. I disallow myself expression of my truth. But I am held by reins of pursuing pleasure. Nothing that I am does not interest me — and we have shared too much. Too alike.
My words escape me because the moment they are materialized, they lose meaning. Perhaps the quantification of words and feelings are something only helmed by the divine. But I forget the divine is here. I imagine one day that steel will outline my flesh in impenetrable machinery and encase these bones in the immortal shell of circuitry, but words — language, surpasses the original birth and Eden. When flesh decays and the iron casings rust, and the wings are snipped off, there will only be dust. Words cannot ever truly die. Only found again. Perhaps, us among them.
- excerpt from my substack
I’m fighting drowsiness and the lethargy that begs me to fall asleep. To fall in love. It does me no good after midnight where the spell of temptation harps and hums a purring melody softer than the sound of my name. I wish to write back, unfiltered and without hesitation. “You” deserve no second guessing. So as I battle these armies of sheep that demand me of sleep, I command this last strip of lucidity before I am drowned in their wool. It’s so soft. Warm. Just like you. I can’t go back to where you are. I’m needed elsewhere, despite how much I love you. Don’t forgive me.
I’m aware of these changes. I’m becoming unrecognizable under self scrutiny. I disallow myself expression of my truth. But I am held by reins of pursuing pleasure. Nothing that I am does not interest me — and we have shared too much. Too alike.
My words escape me because the moment they are materialized, they lose meaning. Perhaps the quantification of words and feelings are something only helmed by the divine. But I forget the divine is here. I imagine one day that steel will outline my flesh in impenetrable machinery and encase these bones in the immortal shell of circuitry, but words — language, surpasses the original birth and Eden. When flesh decays and the iron casings rust, and the wings are snipped off, there will only be dust. Words cannot ever truly die. Only found again. Perhaps, us among them.
- excerpt from my substack
I’m fighting drowsiness and the lethargy that begs me to fall asleep. To fall in love. It does me no good after midnight where the spell of temptation harps and hums a purring melody softer than the sound of my name. I wish to write back, unfiltered and without hesitation. “You” deserve no second guessing. So as I battle these armies of sheep that demand me of sleep, I command this last strip of lucidity before I am drowned in their wool. It’s so soft. Warm. Just like you. I can’t go back to where you are. I’m needed elsewhere, despite how much I love you. Don’t forgive me.
I’m aware of these changes. I’m becoming unrecognizable under self scrutiny. I disallow myself expression of my truth. But I am held by reins of pursuing pleasure. Nothing that I am does not interest me — and we have shared too much. Too alike.
My words escape me because the moment they are materialized, they lose meaning. Perhaps the quantification of words and feelings are something only helmed by the divine. But I forget the divine is here. I imagine one day that steel will outline my flesh in impenetrable machinery and encase these bones in the immortal shell of circuitry, but words — language, surpasses the original birth and Eden. When flesh decays and the iron casings rust, and the wings are snipped off, there will only be dust. Words cannot ever truly die. Only found again. Perhaps, us among them.
- excerpt from my substack
I’m fighting drowsiness and the lethargy that begs me to fall asleep. To fall in love. It does me no good after midnight where the spell of temptation harps and hums a purring melody softer than the sound of my name. I wish to write back, unfiltered and without hesitation. “You” deserve no second guessing. So as I battle these armies of sheep that demand me of sleep, I command this last strip of lucidity before I am drowned in their wool. It’s so soft. Warm. Just like you. I can’t go back to where you are. I’m needed elsewhere, despite how much I love you. Don’t forgive me.
I’m aware of these changes. I’m becoming unrecognizable under self scrutiny. I disallow myself expression of my truth. But I am held by reins of pursuing pleasure. Nothing that I am does not interest me — and we have shared too much. Too alike.
My words escape me because the moment they are materialized, they lose meaning. Perhaps the quantification of words and feelings are something only helmed by the divine. But I forget the divine is here. I imagine one day that steel will outline my flesh in impenetrable machinery and encase these bones in the immortal shell of circuitry, but words — language, surpasses the original birth and Eden. When flesh decays and the iron casings rust, and the wings are snipped off, there will only be dust. Words cannot ever truly die. Only found again. Perhaps, us among them.
- excerpt from my substack
I’m fighting drowsiness and the lethargy that begs me to fall asleep. To fall in love. It does me no good after midnight where the spell of temptation harps and hums a purring melody softer than the sound of my name. I wish to write back, unfiltered and without hesitation. “You” deserve no second guessing. So as I battle these armies of sheep that demand me of sleep, I command this last strip of lucidity before I am drowned in their wool. It’s so soft. Warm. Just like you. I can’t go back to where you are. I’m needed elsewhere, despite how much I love you. Don’t forgive me.
I’m aware of these changes. I’m becoming unrecognizable under self scrutiny. I disallow myself expression of my truth. But I am held by reins of pursuing pleasure. Nothing that I am does not interest me — and we have shared too much. Too alike.
My words escape me because the moment they are materialized, they lose meaning. Perhaps the quantification of words and feelings are something only helmed by the divine. But I forget the divine is here. I imagine one day that steel will outline my flesh in impenetrable machinery and encase these bones in the immortal shell of circuitry, but words — language, surpasses the original birth and Eden. When flesh decays and the iron casings rust, and the wings are snipped off, there will only be dust. Words cannot ever truly die. Only found again. Perhaps, us among them.
- excerpt from my substack
I’m fighting drowsiness and the lethargy that begs me to fall asleep. To fall in love. It does me no good after midnight where the spell of temptation harps and hums a purring melody softer than the sound of my name. I wish to write back, unfiltered and without hesitation. “You” deserve no second guessing. So as I battle these armies of sheep that demand me of sleep, I command this last strip of lucidity before I am drowned in their wool. It’s so soft. Warm. Just like you. I can’t go back to where you are. I’m needed elsewhere, despite how much I love you. Don’t forgive me.
I’m aware of these changes. I’m becoming unrecognizable under self scrutiny. I disallow myself expression of my truth. But I am held by reins of pursuing pleasure. Nothing that I am does not interest me — and we have shared too much. Too alike.
My words escape me because the moment they are materialized, they lose meaning. Perhaps the quantification of words and feelings are something only helmed by the divine. But I forget the divine is here. I imagine one day that steel will outline my flesh in impenetrable machinery and encase these bones in the immortal shell of circuitry, but words — language, surpasses the original birth and Eden. When flesh decays and the iron casings rust, and the wings are snipped off, there will only be dust. Words cannot ever truly die. Only found again. Perhaps, us among them.
- excerpt from my substack
I’m fighting drowsiness and the lethargy that begs me to fall asleep. To fall in love. It does me no good after midnight where the spell of temptation harps and hums a purring melody softer than the sound of my name. I wish to write back, unfiltered and without hesitation. “You” deserve no second guessing. So as I battle these armies of sheep that demand me of sleep, I command this last strip of lucidity before I am drowned in their wool. It’s so soft. Warm. Just like you. I can’t go back to where you are. I’m needed elsewhere, despite how much I love you. Don’t forgive me.
I’m aware of these changes. I’m becoming unrecognizable under self scrutiny. I disallow myself expression of my truth. But I am held by reins of pursuing pleasure. Nothing that I am does not interest me — and we have shared too much. Too alike.
My words escape me because the moment they are materialized, they lose meaning. Perhaps the quantification of words and feelings are something only helmed by the divine. But I forget the divine is here. I imagine one day that steel will outline my flesh in impenetrable machinery and encase these bones in the immortal shell of circuitry, but words — language, surpasses the original birth and Eden. When flesh decays and the iron casings rust, and the wings are snipped off, there will only be dust. Words cannot ever truly die. Only found again. Perhaps, us among them.
- excerpt from my substack
I’m fighting drowsiness and the lethargy that begs me to fall asleep. To fall in love. It does me no good after midnight where the spell of temptation harps and hums a purring melody softer than the sound of my name. I wish to write back, unfiltered and without hesitation. “You” deserve no second guessing. So as I battle these armies of sheep that demand me of sleep, I command this last strip of lucidity before I am drowned in their wool. It’s so soft. Warm. Just like you. I can’t go back to where you are. I’m needed elsewhere, despite how much I love you. Don’t forgive me.
I’m aware of these changes. I’m becoming unrecognizable under self scrutiny. I disallow myself expression of my truth. But I am held by reins of pursuing pleasure. Nothing that I am does not interest me — and we have shared too much. Too alike.
My words escape me because the moment they are materialized, they lose meaning. Perhaps the quantification of words and feelings are something only helmed by the divine. But I forget the divine is here. I imagine one day that steel will outline my flesh in impenetrable machinery and encase these bones in the immortal shell of circuitry, but words — language, surpasses the original birth and Eden. When flesh decays and the iron casings rust, and the wings are snipped off, there will only be dust. Words cannot ever truly die. Only found again. Perhaps, us among them.
- excerpt from my substack
I’m fighting drowsiness and the lethargy that begs me to fall asleep. To fall in love. It does me no good after midnight where the spell of temptation harps and hums a purring melody softer than the sound of my name. I wish to write back, unfiltered and without hesitation. “You” deserve no second guessing. So as I battle these armies of sheep that demand me of sleep, I command this last strip of lucidity before I am drowned in their wool. It’s so soft. Warm. Just like you. I can’t go back to where you are. I’m needed elsewhere, despite how much I love you. Don’t forgive me.
I’m aware of these changes. I’m becoming unrecognizable under self scrutiny. I disallow myself expression of my truth. But I am held by reins of pursuing pleasure. Nothing that I am does not interest me — and we have shared too much. Too alike.
My words escape me because the moment they are materialized, they lose meaning. Perhaps the quantification of words and feelings are something only helmed by the divine. But I forget the divine is here. I imagine one day that steel will outline my flesh in impenetrable machinery and encase these bones in the immortal shell of circuitry, but words — language, surpasses the original birth and Eden. When flesh decays and the iron casings rust, and the wings are snipped off, there will only be dust. Words cannot ever truly die. Only found again. Perhaps, us among them.
- excerpt from my substack
I’m fighting drowsiness and the lethargy that begs me to fall asleep. To fall in love. It does me no good after midnight where the spell of temptation harps and hums a purring melody softer than the sound of my name. I wish to write back, unfiltered and without hesitation. “You” deserve no second guessing. So as I battle these armies of sheep that demand me of sleep, I command this last strip of lucidity before I am drowned in their wool. It’s so soft. Warm. Just like you. I can’t go back to where you are. I’m needed elsewhere, despite how much I love you. Don’t forgive me.
I’m aware of these changes. I’m becoming unrecognizable under self scrutiny. I disallow myself expression of my truth. But I am held by reins of pursuing pleasure. Nothing that I am does not interest me — and we have shared too much. Too alike.
My words escape me because the moment they are materialized, they lose meaning. Perhaps the quantification of words and feelings are something only helmed by the divine. But I forget the divine is here. I imagine one day that steel will outline my flesh in impenetrable machinery and encase these bones in the immortal shell of circuitry, but words — language, surpasses the original birth and Eden. When flesh decays and the iron casings rust, and the wings are snipped off, there will only be dust. Words cannot ever truly die. Only found again. Perhaps, us among them.
- excerpt from my substack
I’m fighting drowsiness and the lethargy that begs me to fall asleep. To fall in love. It does me no good after midnight where the spell of temptation harps and hums a purring melody softer than the sound of my name. I wish to write back, unfiltered and without hesitation. “You” deserve no second guessing. So as I battle these armies of sheep that demand me of sleep, I command this last strip of lucidity before I am drowned in their wool. It’s so soft. Warm. Just like you. I can’t go back to where you are. I’m needed elsewhere, despite how much I love you. Don’t forgive me.
I’m aware of these changes. I’m becoming unrecognizable under self scrutiny. I disallow myself expression of my truth. But I am held by reins of pursuing pleasure. Nothing that I am does not interest me — and we have shared too much. Too alike.
My words escape me because the moment they are materialized, they lose meaning. Perhaps the quantification of words and feelings are something only helmed by the divine. But I forget the divine is here. I imagine one day that steel will outline my flesh in impenetrable machinery and encase these bones in the immortal shell of circuitry, but words — language, surpasses the original birth and Eden. When flesh decays and the iron casings rust, and the wings are snipped off, there will only be dust. Words cannot ever truly die. Only found again. Perhaps, us among them.
- excerpt from my substack
I’m fighting drowsiness and the lethargy that begs me to fall asleep. To fall in love. It does me no good after midnight where the spell of temptation harps and hums a purring melody softer than the sound of my name. I wish to write back, unfiltered and without hesitation. “You” deserve no second guessing. So as I battle these armies of sheep that demand me of sleep, I command this last strip of lucidity before I am drowned in their wool. It’s so soft. Warm. Just like you. I can’t go back to where you are. I’m needed elsewhere, despite how much I love you. Don’t forgive me.
I’m aware of these changes. I’m becoming unrecognizable under self scrutiny. I disallow myself expression of my truth. But I am held by reins of pursuing pleasure. Nothing that I am does not interest me — and we have shared too much. Too alike.
My words escape me because the moment they are materialized, they lose meaning. Perhaps the quantification of words and feelings are something only helmed by the divine. But I forget the divine is here. I imagine one day that steel will outline my flesh in impenetrable machinery and encase these bones in the immortal shell of circuitry, but words — language, surpasses the original birth and Eden. When flesh decays and the iron casings rust, and the wings are snipped off, there will only be dust. Words cannot ever truly die. Only found again. Perhaps, us among them.
- excerpt from my substack
marking (15% energy) a freestyle during these winter delays. (Un)fortunately the socal Filipino never dies at heart.
“A sense of foreboding clings to me heavily like the oppressive humidity of a summer night, much like the sticky tar on melted asphalt.”
Thank you to such a wonderful team for helping me see this project through. I fall short on proper words.
Cam op/assist: @she.yawn
Light assist/digi: Markjay Quines
MUA: @shu.zhang
Stylist: @tianyun___
Talent: @birdsliveinmyribcage
Banquet/ (PLAY)
“We play and play. Take and take. Uninvited, loud, greedy. Violent without warning. I’ve been spread so thin and emptied out, leaving no evidence of living. My spirit has since exited, renouncing the empty container of skeletal fascia and emaciated muscle fiber; Our anatomies still continuously contorting with one another in a desperate search for a god in these entanglements. Has desire outweighed love? How sad we must mingle our limbs in agitated abrasion, twisted and wrung. When did we even last have fun?
Reduced to become an obstacle to overcome, a conquest to complete; The supposed reward of meager efforts. So hollow I often find others so punitive in theirdesires, never to be held accountable and due for punishment. When was I last seen, if ever? I caution the weeping specter and her invisible tears.”
Video/photo assist: @she.yawn
Light asst/digi: Markjay Quines
MUA: @shu.zhang
Stylist: @tianyun___
Talent: @birdsliveinmyribcage
Banquet/ (PLAY)
“We play and play. Take and take. Uninvited, loud, greedy. Violent without warning. I’ve been spread so thin and emptied out, leaving no evidence of living. My spirit has since exited, renouncing the empty container of skeletal fascia and emaciated muscle fiber; Our anatomies still continuously contorting with one another in a desperate search for a god in these entanglements. Has desire outweighed love? How sad we must mingle our limbs in agitated abrasion, twisted and wrung. When did we even last have fun?
Reduced to become an obstacle to overcome, a conquest to complete; The supposed reward of meager efforts. So hollow I often find others so punitive in theirdesires, never to be held accountable and due for punishment. When was I last seen, if ever? I caution the weeping specter and her invisible tears.”
Video/photo assist: @she.yawn
Light asst/digi: Markjay Quines
MUA: @shu.zhang
Stylist: @tianyun___
Talent: @birdsliveinmyribcage
Banquet/ (PLAY)
“We play and play. Take and take. Uninvited, loud, greedy. Violent without warning. I’ve been spread so thin and emptied out, leaving no evidence of living. My spirit has since exited, renouncing the empty container of skeletal fascia and emaciated muscle fiber; Our anatomies still continuously contorting with one another in a desperate search for a god in these entanglements. Has desire outweighed love? How sad we must mingle our limbs in agitated abrasion, twisted and wrung. When did we even last have fun?
Reduced to become an obstacle to overcome, a conquest to complete; The supposed reward of meager efforts. So hollow I often find others so punitive in theirdesires, never to be held accountable and due for punishment. When was I last seen, if ever? I caution the weeping specter and her invisible tears.”
Video/photo assist: @she.yawn
Light asst/digi: Markjay Quines
MUA: @shu.zhang
Stylist: @tianyun___
Talent: @birdsliveinmyribcage
Banquet/ (PLAY)
“We play and play. Take and take. Uninvited, loud, greedy. Violent without warning. I’ve been spread so thin and emptied out, leaving no evidence of living. My spirit has since exited, renouncing the empty container of skeletal fascia and emaciated muscle fiber; Our anatomies still continuously contorting with one another in a desperate search for a god in these entanglements. Has desire outweighed love? How sad we must mingle our limbs in agitated abrasion, twisted and wrung. When did we even last have fun?
Reduced to become an obstacle to overcome, a conquest to complete; The supposed reward of meager efforts. So hollow I often find others so punitive in theirdesires, never to be held accountable and due for punishment. When was I last seen, if ever? I caution the weeping specter and her invisible tears.”
Video/photo assist: @she.yawn
Light asst/digi: Markjay Quines
MUA: @shu.zhang
Stylist: @tianyun___
Talent: @birdsliveinmyribcage
Banquet/ (PLAY)
“We play and play. Take and take. Uninvited, loud, greedy. Violent without warning. I’ve been spread so thin and emptied out, leaving no evidence of living. My spirit has since exited, renouncing the empty container of skeletal fascia and emaciated muscle fiber; Our anatomies still continuously contorting with one another in a desperate search for a god in these entanglements. Has desire outweighed love? How sad we must mingle our limbs in agitated abrasion, twisted and wrung. When did we even last have fun?
Reduced to become an obstacle to overcome, a conquest to complete; The supposed reward of meager efforts. So hollow I often find others so punitive in theirdesires, never to be held accountable and due for punishment. When was I last seen, if ever? I caution the weeping specter and her invisible tears.”
Video/photo assist: @she.yawn
Light asst/digi: Markjay Quines
MUA: @shu.zhang
Stylist: @tianyun___
Talent: @birdsliveinmyribcage
Banquet/ (PLAY)
“We play and play. Take and take. Uninvited, loud, greedy. Violent without warning. I’ve been spread so thin and emptied out, leaving no evidence of living. My spirit has since exited, renouncing the empty container of skeletal fascia and emaciated muscle fiber; Our anatomies still continuously contorting with one another in a desperate search for a god in these entanglements. Has desire outweighed love? How sad we must mingle our limbs in agitated abrasion, twisted and wrung. When did we even last have fun?
Reduced to become an obstacle to overcome, a conquest to complete; The supposed reward of meager efforts. So hollow I often find others so punitive in theirdesires, never to be held accountable and due for punishment. When was I last seen, if ever? I caution the weeping specter and her invisible tears.”
Video/photo assist: @she.yawn
Light asst/digi: Markjay Quines
MUA: @shu.zhang
Stylist: @tianyun___
Talent: @birdsliveinmyribcage
Banquet/ (PLAY)
“We play and play. Take and take. Uninvited, loud, greedy. Violent without warning. I’ve been spread so thin and emptied out, leaving no evidence of living. My spirit has since exited, renouncing the empty container of skeletal fascia and emaciated muscle fiber; Our anatomies still continuously contorting with one another in a desperate search for a god in these entanglements. Has desire outweighed love? How sad we must mingle our limbs in agitated abrasion, twisted and wrung. When did we even last have fun?
Reduced to become an obstacle to overcome, a conquest to complete; The supposed reward of meager efforts. So hollow I often find others so punitive in theirdesires, never to be held accountable and due for punishment. When was I last seen, if ever? I caution the weeping specter and her invisible tears.”
Video/photo assist: @she.yawn
Light asst/digi: Markjay Quines
MUA: @shu.zhang
Stylist: @tianyun___
Talent: @birdsliveinmyribcage
“The opera house is empty once more. This is a celebration of loneliness, the only thing offered to me; fantasized convictions and a fragile devotion dipped and lustered in disillusion. There is no sustenance in these haphazard offerings. An empty table, an empty banquet of love and shallow parlor fare. Must I become monstrous because of your attendance?”
MUA: @shu.zhang
stylist: @tianyun___
Video/Photo assist: @she.yawn
Digi/assist: Markjay Quines
Talent: @birdsliveinmyribcage
“The opera house is empty once more. This is a celebration of loneliness, the only thing offered to me; fantasized convictions and a fragile devotion dipped and lustered in disillusion. There is no sustenance in these haphazard offerings. An empty table, an empty banquet of love and shallow parlor fare. Must I become monstrous because of your attendance?”
MUA: @shu.zhang
stylist: @tianyun___
Video/Photo assist: @she.yawn
Digi/assist: Markjay Quines
Talent: @birdsliveinmyribcage
“The opera house is empty once more. This is a celebration of loneliness, the only thing offered to me; fantasized convictions and a fragile devotion dipped and lustered in disillusion. There is no sustenance in these haphazard offerings. An empty table, an empty banquet of love and shallow parlor fare. Must I become monstrous because of your attendance?”
MUA: @shu.zhang
stylist: @tianyun___
Video/Photo assist: @she.yawn
Digi/assist: Markjay Quines
Talent: @birdsliveinmyribcage
“The opera house is empty once more. This is a celebration of loneliness, the only thing offered to me; fantasized convictions and a fragile devotion dipped and lustered in disillusion. There is no sustenance in these haphazard offerings. An empty table, an empty banquet of love and shallow parlor fare. Must I become monstrous because of your attendance?”
MUA: @shu.zhang
stylist: @tianyun___
Video/Photo assist: @she.yawn
Digi/assist: Markjay Quines
Talent: @birdsliveinmyribcage
“The opera house is empty once more. This is a celebration of loneliness, the only thing offered to me; fantasized convictions and a fragile devotion dipped and lustered in disillusion. There is no sustenance in these haphazard offerings. An empty table, an empty banquet of love and shallow parlor fare. Must I become monstrous because of your attendance?”
MUA: @shu.zhang
stylist: @tianyun___
Video/Photo assist: @she.yawn
Digi/assist: Markjay Quines
Talent: @birdsliveinmyribcage
“The opera house is empty once more. This is a celebration of loneliness, the only thing offered to me; fantasized convictions and a fragile devotion dipped and lustered in disillusion. There is no sustenance in these haphazard offerings. An empty table, an empty banquet of love and shallow parlor fare. Must I become monstrous because of your attendance?”
MUA: @shu.zhang
stylist: @tianyun___
Video/Photo assist: @she.yawn
Digi/assist: Markjay Quines
Talent: @birdsliveinmyribcage
“The opera house is empty once more. This is a celebration of loneliness, the only thing offered to me; fantasized convictions and a fragile devotion dipped and lustered in disillusion. There is no sustenance in these haphazard offerings. An empty table, an empty banquet of love and shallow parlor fare. Must I become monstrous because of your attendance?”
MUA: @shu.zhang
stylist: @tianyun___
Video/Photo assist: @she.yawn
Digi/assist: Markjay Quines
Talent: @birdsliveinmyribcage
“The opera house is empty once more. This is a celebration of loneliness, the only thing offered to me; fantasized convictions and a fragile devotion dipped and lustered in disillusion. There is no sustenance in these haphazard offerings. An empty table, an empty banquet of love and shallow parlor fare. Must I become monstrous because of your attendance?”
MUA: @shu.zhang
stylist: @tianyun___
Video/Photo assist: @she.yawn
Digi/assist: Markjay Quines
Talent: @birdsliveinmyribcage
Przeglądaj historie na Instagramie w tajemnicy
Instagram Story Viewer to proste narzędzie, które pozwala na ciche oglądanie i zapisywanie historii Instagram, filmów, zdjęć lub IGTV. Dzięki tej usłudze możesz pobrać zawartość i cieszyć się nią offline, kiedy chcesz. Jeśli znajdziesz coś interesującego na Instagramie, co chcesz sprawdzić później, lub chcesz oglądać historie pozostając anonimowym, nasz Viewer jest idealny dla Ciebie. Anonstories oferuje doskonałe rozwiązanie do ukrywania swojej tożsamości. Instagram po raz pierwszy uruchomił funkcję historii w sierpniu 2023 roku, która szybko została zaadoptowana przez inne platformy ze względu na jej angażujący, czasowo ograniczony format. Historie pozwalają użytkownikom dzielić się szybkimi aktualizacjami, czy to zdjęciami, filmami, czy selfie, wzbogaconymi o tekst, emotikony lub filtry, i są widoczne tylko przez 24 godziny. Ten ograniczony czas sprawia, że historie cieszą się dużym zaangażowaniem w porównaniu do zwykłych postów. W dzisiejszym świecie historie to jeden z najpopularniejszych sposobów komunikacji na mediach społecznościowych. Jednak gdy oglądasz historię, twórca może zobaczyć Twoje imię na liście oglądających, co może stanowić problem związany z prywatnością. Co jeśli chcesz przeglądać historie, nie będąc zauważonym? Tutaj Anonstories staje się przydatne. Umożliwia oglądanie publicznej zawartości Instagram bez ujawniania tożsamości. Wystarczy wpisać nazwę użytkownika profilu, który Cię interesuje, a narzędzie wyświetli ich najnowsze historie. Cechy Anonstories Viewer: - Anonimowe przeglądanie: Oglądaj historie bez pojawiania się na liście oglądających. - Brak konta: Oglądaj publiczną zawartość bez logowania się na konto Instagram. - Pobieranie zawartości: Zapisuj dowolną zawartość historii bezpośrednio na swoje urządzenie do użytku offline. - Przeglądaj najważniejsze: Dostęp do Instagram Highlights, nawet po 24 godzinach. - Monitorowanie repostów: Śledź reposty lub poziom zaangażowania w historię na prywatnych profilach. Ograniczenia: - Narzędzie działa tylko z publicznymi kontami; konta prywatne pozostają niedostępne. Korzyści: - Przyjazne dla prywatności: Oglądaj zawartość Instagram bez bycia zauważonym. - Proste i łatwe: Brak potrzeby instalacji aplikacji lub rejestracji. - Ekskluzywne narzędzia: Pobieraj i zarządzaj zawartością w sposób, którego Instagram nie oferuje.
Zalety Anonstories
Oglądaj IG Stories Prywatnie
Śledź aktualizacje na Instagramie dyskretnie, chroniąc swoją prywatność i pozostając anonimowym.
Prywatny Viewer na Instagramie
Oglądaj profile i zdjęcia anonimowo za pomocą Prywatnego Viewera.
Bezpłatny Story Viewer
To darmowe narzędzie pozwala oglądać historie Instagram anonimowo, zapewniając, że Twoja aktywność pozostaje ukryta przed twórcą historii.
Najczęściej zadawane pytania
Anonimowość
Anonstories pozwala użytkownikom oglądać historie na Instagramie bez informowania twórcy.
Kompatybilność z urządzeniami
Funkcjonuje płynnie na iOS, Android, Windows, macOS i nowoczesnych przeglądarkach takich jak Chrome i Safari.
Bezpieczeństwo i Prywatność
Priorytetem jest bezpieczne, anonimowe przeglądanie bez konieczności logowania się.
Brak rejestracji
Użytkownicy mogą oglądać publiczne historie, wpisując nazwę użytkownika – bez konieczności zakładania konta.
Obsługiwane formaty
Pobiera zdjęcia (JPEG) i filmy (MP4) z łatwością.
Koszt
Usługa jest bezpłatna.
Konta prywatne
Treści z prywatnych kont mogą być dostępne tylko dla obserwujących.
Użycie plików
Pliki są przeznaczone do użytku osobistego lub edukacyjnego i muszą być zgodne z przepisami dotyczącymi praw autorskich.
Jak to działa
Wpisz publiczną nazwę użytkownika, aby oglądać lub pobrać historie. Usługa generuje bezpośrednie linki do zapis