about me  

  • she/her ◡̈

  • virgo ◡̈ infp things

  before you follow  

This space is where I keep pieces of what moves me films, moods, and fleeting moments. I rate with emotion, not logic. I gravitate toward slow stories, quiet tension, haunting music, and characters who feel like echoes.If you're looking for objectivity, this isn’t that. But if cinema feels like memory to you too, welcome

  do not interact  

If you're hateful, close minded, or engage in harassment of any kind this space isn't for you. DNI if you mock personal interpretations, rate with elitist takes only, or invalidate emotional responses to art. Basic decency is non negotiable.This is a quiet, honest space. Please respect that.

  ults  

The women who live rent- ree on my screen and in my mind:
Mia Goth, for turning madness into art raw, fragile, and unapologetic.
Audrey Hepburn, for a grace that feels eternal soft-spoken, luminous, and impossible to replicate.
Their filmographies sit quietly on mycomfort list:
from Pearl and The Witch to Roman Holiday and Breakfast at Tiffany’s.
I don’t just watch for the stories
I watch for them. Always.

  others  

Some films I keep circling back to lately:
The Hunger : immortal desire, velvet darkness, and doomed beauty.
The Children’s Hour : repression, silence, and tragedy that cuts too close.
Alvira : hysteria, blasphemy, and unholy feminine chaos.
Gothic & Psycho Lolita : lace, obsession, and innocence rotting from within.Current brainrot: gothic longing, cursed femininity, religious dread, velvet shadows.
Aesthetic pull: dark gothic, where beauty aches and nothing stays pure.
My watchlist? A mausoleum of temptations.
My rewatch list? Ritualistic.
Taste is obsessive, cyclical, and unapologetically morbid and I wouldn’t have it any other way.