And… cut.
In the dream…
In the dream I had stolen your film camera. Your old one. The Russian 16mm.
I had used it, and you had found it, and you had gotten mad.
Not because it was amateur porn I’d shot, but because the 16mm film itself was so hard to find. You’d bought the old film at an antiques market - a remarkable, rare find. It had expired, was partially dissolved.
It had been stored in someone’s fridge. They were Ukrainian, I think.
Every frame was unqiuely decayed, and those 3 expensive minutes of motion were lurid and flowing, popped and sputtered. The only sound we’d recorded was laughter.
It was… analogue. Beautifully analogue.
You were so angry.
But my god, it was beautiful pornography.
