I feel your presence, but my thoughts turn to the light outside. I long to be there, but I resist.
This isn't a movie.
It’s reality.
It hits you, and it devastates you.
Right down to the depths of your wounded soul.
It shows the raw, disgusting truth of the world we all know exists, but prefer to ignore.
It makes you ask, for those women you see so exposed:
How are you?
I know I didn’t feel okay watching it.
I cried about three times, felt my heart race twice, and a wave of sadness overwhelming my mind, making it its own.
My head floated in its immersion.
These girls lie to themselves that they’re okay.
It’s something powerful—it can’t make you smile; it makes you sad while you suffer watching it.
And it’s not bad; it’s incredible.
Like love.
Sex is the beginning of life, a taboo, repulsive, yet necessary for every human, simply because we are human.
It plunges you into the void that echoes with dizziness as you watch the images.
"You don’t understand the world.
You devour it, that’s all."
It’s like being stabbed by pure mutual love.
The beautiful, true monologue.
The dirty, sad ending.
It’s an experience that shows the duality of our perspective.
The immersion as if you were drowning.
It deserves the image.
It deserves the soundtrack.
It has angles and compositions purer than the most beautiful soul.
I'm writing this as a cathartic release, from someone who was involved with pornography for a very, very long time, and here, I felt no desire whatsoever to go back to being who I was.
This film has that spirit; it almost gets inside people, but it's not pornographic; it's a work of art on video.> I don't want to feel better. I just want to feel something.
He made me think about how bad life is for those girls; what should be an expression of love is merely a display of their naked bodies for the first filthy man who comes along and pays for pleasure, which is, for him alone, a clear suffering.> You call me Iku, but my real name is...
They are people there, someone's children, mommy's or daddy's little girl, crying in the dark where no one can see.
They fight their demons.
They wave, dance, and kiss.
It’s too much, but they still go on.
The stares that surround her.
They see all of her.
Except the real her.
They fit into pieces of illusion.
What’s left of them?
They protect themselves from the light of the curtain, which could reveal what's left of them.
A being that has been undone.
A jigsaw puzzle of existence and emotions, painstakingly pieced together.> What should I do, come into being or erase myself?