mnouco

[mnouao]

Gold & Green

The perfect blend—rich, radiant gold meeting the fresh, vibrant pulse of green. It’s luxury with life, elegance rooted in nature. The shimmer of gold catches the eye, while green grounds it, creating a balance that feels both bold and effortless. Together, they tell a story of contrast and harmony—light and earth, opulence and growth.

A palette that doesn’t just stand out—it speaks.

[mnouao]

Title: Water Pool

Still water, reflecting the world like glass—until a ripple breaks the surface, spreading gently outward. A water pool is more than just a place; it’s a moment suspended. Light dances across its surface, shadows blend, and time feels like it’s slowing down, drawn into the calm.

Dive in, and the surface shatters—smooth turns chaotic, clarity dissolves into waves. Yet even in its motion, the water holds you, soft and weightless, like a secret world below the noise.

A water pool is both rest and release. It’s where the world fades, and for just a moment, all you feel is the quiet pull of the deep.

[mnouao]

Title: Jurujuru

Soft, flowing, endlessly in motion—jurujuru. It’s the sound of something liquid, something slipping through fingers, smooth and uncatchable. A moment that feels warm, almost nostalgic, like watching steam rise, like threads unwinding, like time passing in slow drips.

There’s a comfort in it—jurujuru isn’t hurried or sharp. It’s gentle, like a memory you can’t hold onto but don’t want to forget. Something tactile yet intangible, alive yet still.

Maybe it’s just a sound. Or maybe, it’s the feeling of letting go.

[mnouao]

Title: Private Shots: Moments Unseen

Private shots are more than just photos—they’re glimpses into the unguarded, the raw, the intimate. These are the moments that aren’t staged, where emotion flows naturally, untouched by the pressure of an audience. They carry a kind of honesty that can’t be rehearsed, capturing the soul in its truest form.

It’s the quiet glances, the way hands move, or the subtle light falling across a face. These shots don’t shout for attention—they whisper, drawing you into a story only you’re meant to see.

Private shots remind us that beauty isn’t always on display. Sometimes, it’s hidden in the fleeting seconds between the big moments, waiting to be noticed.

[mnouao]

Title: The Allure of Soft Curves

There’s something undeniably attractive about roundness—soft edges, gentle curves, shapes that flow effortlessly. It’s in the way a form invites touch, in how it soothes the eye and calms the mind. Sharpness demands attention, but roundness keeps it, holding you in its quiet, magnetic pull.

It’s not just about aesthetics; it’s about feeling. Roundness speaks of warmth, comfort, and balance. It’s the shape of harmony, of wholeness, of things that naturally fit together. It’s inviting without asking, subtle yet irresistible.

Sometimes, the most attractive things aren’t bold—they’re soft, approachable, and quietly perfect in their curves.

[mnouao]

re-born

[mnouao]

Title: Whether That Move Affects You or Not

Whether that move is affecting you—that’s something only you can know. It’s easy for actions to ripple out, for choices to leave unseen marks, even if they seem small or distant. Sometimes, the impact is obvious, hitting you head-on; other times, it’s subtle, creeping in like a shadow you didn’t notice until it was already there.

Maybe it’s changing the way you think, or maybe it’s just a passing thought. Either way, it leaves a trace, doesn’t it? We don’t always see how things affect us until we look back and realize how deeply they’ve shaped us.

[mnouao]

Title: As Expected, This Color

There’s something about this color—it’s familiar, yet it stirs something deep, something almost unexplainable. You see it, and it feels like coming back to a place you’ve known all along. “Yappari, kono iro”—as expected, this is the one.

It’s the kind of color that lingers, one that holds memories, dreams, and perhaps a bit of longing. It’s more than just a shade; it’s a feeling, a reminder of something both real and imagined. Maybe it’s the way it wraps around everything, quietly commanding presence, or maybe it’s simply that it feels right.

In this color, there’s a sense of calm and recognition—a soft, quiet nod that says, “Yes, this is it.”

[mnouao]

Transcendence

To transcend is to go beyond—beyond limits, beyond expectations, beyond the self we thought we knew. It’s more than just growth; it’s a leap into the unknown, a shedding of the layers that once defined us.

In transcending, we step out of the ordinary, out of comfort, and into something vast and limitless. It’s a journey where we break free from our past selves, embracing what lies ahead with open arms. It’s a silent rebellion against stagnation, a choice to rise above what once held us back.

Transcendence isn’t easy, nor is it gentle. But in each step, we feel lighter, freer, as if we’re moving closer to the core of who we really are. And maybe, just maybe, that’s what it means to truly live.

[mnouao]

desire for self-discovery through sexuality

[mnouao]

[mnouao]

[mnouao]

Title: I Never Knew the Moon’s Briefness Held Meaning.

I never realized there was meaning in the moon’s fleeting presence. It comes and goes so quietly, slipping through phases before you even have a chance to understand. Just when you start to feel connected to its glow, it’s already waning, disappearing into the night.

But maybe that’s the point—things don’t need to last forever to matter. The moon teaches us that even the briefest moments can carry weight, if we’re paying attention. A glimpse, a shimmer, a passing phase—meaning hides in the shortness, in what’s here now but gone before we know it.

Funny how something so distant can feel so close, isn’t it?

[mnouao]

Title: The Things I Couldn’t Do Have Disappeared.

The weight of the things I once thought I couldn’t do—gone. Maybe I gave up on them. Maybe they just slipped through my fingers without me noticing. It’s strange, isn’t it? The limits that used to define us can vanish, leaving nothing behind but silence.

What happens now that they’re gone? Without those limits, there’s no excuse, no boundary to push against. Just the open space ahead, waiting. It feels lighter, but unsettling too—like standing on the edge of possibility with nothing holding you back anymore.

What will you do when the limits are no longer there?

[mnouao]

photo by Ueno Zoo(Japan) Title: Have You Ever Heard the Cry of an Animal?

Have you truly listened to the sound an animal makes? Not just the noise, but the raw emotion behind it—the hunger, fear, longing, or joy. There’s something primal in those cries, something that words can’t capture. It’s a reminder that we’re all part of the same chaotic world, grasping for connection in ways that often go unnoticed.

Maybe it’s easy to ignore, but if you stop and listen closely, you’ll realize: those sounds carry stories, too. Stories of survival, instinct, and existence, echoing in a language older than any of us.

Have you ever heard them? Or were you just passing by?

[mnouao]

Title: I Know Better than to Act Recklessly.

I get it—charging in without a plan, acting on impulse, diving headfirst into chaos—that’s taboo. I’m not oblivious. Somewhere deep down, we all know the cost of thoughtless action. But still, there’s a pull, isn’t there? A temptation to let go, to do something reckless just to feel alive, even if only for a moment.

Knowing the rules doesn’t always mean following them. And sometimes, breaking them feels inevitable—like a storm that’s been brewing for too long, waiting to be unleashed. We know better, but knowing isn’t always enough.

[mnouao]

Title: Do You Acknowledge the Frustration of Being Unable to Express Yourself?

Do you recognize the discomfort of not being able to express what’s inside you? The feeling of words slipping away before they reach the surface, like trying to paint with invisible colors. It’s not just a limitation—it’s a glitch in being human, a constant mismatch between what we feel and what we manage to show.

We stumble through conversations, hoping someone might understand, yet so much is left unsaid. The imperfections pile up, and the weight of what remains unexpressed can feel suffocating.

But maybe, in accepting this flawed communication, we can find some peace. After all, there’s a strange kind of beauty in knowing that even when we can’t say everything, the struggle itself still connects us.