What I do like:
I like things that take time. Tea that needs to breathe. People who know how to wait.What excites me? The things that don’t try too hard. A look that lingers.A secret that stays unspoken.

What I don't like:
I don’t like cold hands. Or cold intentions.

When I am ONLINE:
during the day

My description:
Fresh Mint Tea — recipe. You’ll need: A handful of fresh mint leaves — the kind that bruise easily between your fingers.Hot water, just shy of a boil. A drizzle of honey, if you like it sweet. Optional: a slice of lemon, for that teasing sharpness.How to make it: Start by waking the mint. Don’t rush it — roll the leaves gently between your palms until their perfume rises, green and alive. Inhale it. Let it linger. That’s the scent of anticipation. Lay the leaves in your cup or teapot. Pour the hot water — slowly. Watch it swirl, steam curling like a sigh. Let the water touch every leaf; they’ll surrender their essence if you’re patient. Wait. Three minutes. Maybe four. Enough time for the flavor to deepen, the color to shift — pale to gold to something you could drown your thoughts in. Taste. Add honey if you want to flirt with sweetness, lemon if you prefer a kiss that bites back.Sip it slowly. Let the warmth slide down your throat. Feel how it lingers — fresh, soft, and a little wild. Because mint tea isn’t just a drink. It’s an invitation to slow down, to notice, to taste everything twice.