What a magical film. I would want a lover like her. And if I had one then I would have painted her with moving pictures. I would have written music on her shoulders with rhyming words from Urdu, Hindi and Oriya. I would have used her body like the negatives of celluloid film. Exposing it gently to my thoughts and then washing it with my chemical romance.
A film can be an answer to your boredom or as in this case, it can be a source of constant inspiration. Like an ink drop dropped in water and slowly expanding. Like a source of potency. This film has so much to say that you won’t be able to finish reading it in one sitting. The editor uses visuals as if they are thoughts springing into existence. Sometimes a single thought, sometimes multiple. Each frame is a preservation of imagination. The sound design is like a radio play. Interspersed with music and conversations.
The story is about a girl who is in search for a special kind of a writer/calligrapher. Someone who would like to write on her naked body. Her obsession is a gift from her father. Like in Kintsukuroi, her broken desires are joined back with the lacquer of ink drenched in love, jealousy, addiction and revenge.