soupstate

[soupstate]

🍜 noodle diary #01

today I made pancakes. just because it felt like the kindest thing I could do. I watched the butter melt like golden light. I added raspberry jam, thick and bright, like the kind of joy that doesn’t apologize.

miso sat nearby, eyes half-closed, pretending he wasn’t waiting for crumbs. (he always pretends. he never fools me)

we didn’t say much. just ate slowly. it felt like a small ceremony of being alive.

[soupstate]

📮 an open letter from miso

to whoever wandered in

hey.

I saw you come in.

you moved like someone who wasn’t sure if they’re allowed to rest.

you are.

you can sit here.

you don’t have to say anything.

I don’t always talk either.

sometimes I just watch the rain until it forgets it’s falling.

sometimes I sleep for hours and call that healing.

I used to sleep on rooftops, under cars, in boxes that didn’t love me back.

now I live where there’s soup.

and if there’s no soup, I wait until someone makes some.

this place is soft.

not perfect, not loud, just… soft.

so if you need a nap, take it.

if you need silence, I’ve got lots.

and if you need tea —

…I’ll put the kettle on.

— miso