Looking back at the first posts, everything feels distant and strangely simple.
At the time, there was no clear direction.
No real story.
Just fragments — streets, lights, quiet rooms, passing thoughts.
Fuka was still undefined, almost like a shadow moving through Tokyo without knowing where to stop.
The images were more generic, the atmosphere uncertain, and yet… something was already there.
A certain silence.
A certain way of observing small details.
Maybe every story begins like this: without structure, without answers, with only a vague feeling that something important is waiting somewhere ahead.
Looking at those early posts now feels a little embarrassing, but also strangely comforting.
They remind me that even unfinished things can carry sincerity.
And perhaps that is where Fuka truly started.

楽しい日が大好き! ✨
Originally posted on Instagram → [view post]

灯り揺れ
フカはそっと笑む
夏の宵 🌙🌸
Originally posted on Instagram → [view post]

2025年の夏の思い出 🌸
Originally posted on Instagram → [view post]
