watching all these north korean documentary makes me think one thing. Can they for once get a documentary filmmaker that isn’t an pompous ass who’s only goal is to make a shocking film with no real value. I mean, they enter the country under false pretenses and film all the pain and suffer, leaves the country, put together a half ass documentary with no real point to make other than “look at their living conditions” and it somehow get’s some pretentious award like the cannes or tribeca or whatever. Do these filmmakers realize what they are doing though? Every time they make a film that they “secretly” record and then release it as a scalding criticism of the north korean goverment you know who suffers? not the mainly middle class folks who watches the shitty film, not the arrogant filmmaker chasing his 15 minutes, not the north korean goverment or even out goverment. the people of north korean suffers. Instead of capitlizing on a country misfortune they should be helping the people escape that fate and not encouraging the dirt regime have more reasons to act out and punish their own people
dont you hate those people who talk about society as if all their problems could be blamed on it. every little problem to all the serious defects in themselves. but no this is going to be about society’s beauty. ofcourse you mine idea of beauty will probably differ from you. For me beauty is what every manages to thrive, despite whatever environment they’re in. Like a spider in an warm apartment during the harsh winter or blades of grass growing inbetween the cracks in the ground downtown. I guess I like rooting for the under dog but you can’t blame me like many others we’ve all been there.
a held, lit rolled joint is smoking from the tip, wafting into the empty room. making it appears as there’s a transparent ocean in front. The shameless sun radiates through the curtains, Staring at it with a pair of heavy eyelids, hazy with emptiness. dry lips cracked and shriveled up from the lack of moisture. Face, sticky with a layer of greasy that’s accumulated over days but lest you knew better, you’d just think god bestowed this individual with a beautiful glowing face. A musk you mistakenly adore despite it’s sourced at unhygienic practices. His eyes unfocused, unreactive even to your voice. You struggle you get out the first few words without your frantic panic showing through your speech. You beg and you plead for him to return to the home you both shared. You tell this broken figure that the other’s depend on him, and if that’s irrelevant you managed to choke out that he still has to depend on himself. You position yourself beside him, still facing him. You pull up the leg of your jeans as not to stretch it when you kneel beside this man who has given up on everything. You see yourself in his eyes, staring back. He turns his head towards you. his hollow eyes slowly flashes you the remnants of the pain that once was. Crow’s feet began to form at the corners of his eyes as they wince up, reacting to his brain possibly reassembling the memories and replaying them like a song. Then suddenly, his eyes light up, even if for a brief moment you could tell, no you could feel that he recognized you has his eye held onto yours. A quickly spreading sense of hope stirs inside your defeated heart, despite the doctors telling you that he will never be the same. You hold on to those rare moments when you can feel his soul staring back at yours never forgetting the past you shared but remembering the future that was robbed out of hands, How can anyone be happy or kind again? You stand up as his eyes return to the cold lifeless marbles they are. With a quickly paced walk you leave behind Your happiness and your compassion behind. Trapped in that room with your love, sure that once it returns to you, so will everything else.
