all i do is be bisexual, eat hot chip, give 5 star reviews and lie
this film felt exactly like the week-long fever i had when staying with my uncle in the scottish moors. (who was also coming off of his morphine based pain medication)
my mam loved it tho, despite her tutting throughout at the ‘irish’ accents. summat seriously wrong with celtic people 😭
sometimes i look at my hands and they are not my hands; i see the pink crescents of nails drag across skin—scratching, scratching, scratching until raw. is that my skin? my hands? my— ?
the topic of my favourite film is always a little awkward. i’m never quite sure how to bring up a slightly obscure, early 2000s french film about self mutilation and i’m definitely not sure how to explain the deep resonance i have with dans ma peau.…