From the times when a woman woke up not with a phone in her hand, but with warm water in a basin. The morning began in the kitchen. With the cold underfoot. With a white towel soaked in broth. And with a handful of oatmeal ground in a coffee grinder. She put it in gauze, tied it with a ribbon and lowered it into the water. Then she carefully rubbed her face - not to be beautiful, but to be neat, well-groomed, alive.
Oatmeal did not dry. Didn't sting. Didn't foam. It simply washed away the night, like a whisper. And the face became soft. The way grandchildren remember it. Recipe from a notebook: 1 tablespoon of oatmeal Tie in gauze or a clean cloth Dip in warm water Wash your face with light circular movements You can skip rinsing - just blot with a towel
For dry skin - add a drop of oil (linseed, peach, sunflower - whatever) For whitening - put a spoonful of lemon juice in the water After - linden decoction or chamomile tea instead of tonic This is care that is not sold. It does not "work in 7 days". It just lives nearby. Like a cup. Like a mother. Like care that is not visible - but it remains on the skin.
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