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Damage
is the title of a drama by Louis Malle from 1992.
The wonderful Juliette Binoche and the grandiose Jeremy Irons play the leading roles in this piece of film history of a special kind.
Dr. Fleming is a politician. Great house, great job, great wife, two great kids.
Then he meets Anna and it abruptly by, with the previously so sure believed, decent life.
The two begin an affair that knows no boundaries, consumes them, devours them.
The fatal thing is, Anna is his son's girlfriend.
An affair like this never ends well, you know it and yet you want to be sucked into the vortex that pulls you deep with all your might.
So Black Orchid is for me.
Like the desire to have and feel something, regardless of the consequences.
Just live, just give in, leave the fear behind, the lust, the greed give their place..
It's about passion, pain, possession, about all the unspoken, the secretly missing, about physicality, closeness and distance.
Fast sex in a Parisian backyard, perhaps with your face pressed against a cold wall is better than anything you could imagine at that moment.
Anna wants to be owned and Dr. Fleming wants to own her.
Not just a little.
But all of the time.
Now, not later, not in a clean, airy bed, no here! In a stuffy gate entrance, at 7:
in the morning
Not just feeling, but sucking up the elixir of the other, possessing his soul.
Dr. Fleming can't resist, won't resist.
The drama comes to a dark end and his wife only says to him at the end. "Why didn't you just kill yourself?"
Yeah, why didn't he?
Because we're human. Evil and good, cold and soft, old and young, beautiful and ugly.
And because sometimes we have to lose control to live life again.
Black Orchid's pushing me off a little bit at first sniff.
What? This is supposed to be great Tom Ford? I smell old church, muff, basement with dried flowers and inevitably twitch a bit back.
I'm already thinking about activating the emergency shower, but then...yes, then I suddenly have a different suspicion.
It is still powerful, but also tender and comfortable, as if it wants to protect me and at the same time brings me into a strange, dark world.
I feel almost intoxicated at some point, powerless.
That's not really your direction, I think.
And maybe that's why I'm so attracted to him.
He brings out the dark, the hidden. I carry it inside me.
Do I want to follow the vortex that inevitably pulls you down? Forgive my soul? Powerless?
I don't know,
I haven't brought Black Orchid into my house yet. But you never know....
The wonderful Juliette Binoche and the grandiose Jeremy Irons play the leading roles in this piece of film history of a special kind.
Dr. Fleming is a politician. Great house, great job, great wife, two great kids.
Then he meets Anna and it abruptly by, with the previously so sure believed, decent life.
The two begin an affair that knows no boundaries, consumes them, devours them.
The fatal thing is, Anna is his son's girlfriend.
An affair like this never ends well, you know it and yet you want to be sucked into the vortex that pulls you deep with all your might.
So Black Orchid is for me.
Like the desire to have and feel something, regardless of the consequences.
Just live, just give in, leave the fear behind, the lust, the greed give their place..
It's about passion, pain, possession, about all the unspoken, the secretly missing, about physicality, closeness and distance.
Fast sex in a Parisian backyard, perhaps with your face pressed against a cold wall is better than anything you could imagine at that moment.
Anna wants to be owned and Dr. Fleming wants to own her.
Not just a little.
But all of the time.
Now, not later, not in a clean, airy bed, no here! In a stuffy gate entrance, at 7:
in the morning
Not just feeling, but sucking up the elixir of the other, possessing his soul.
Dr. Fleming can't resist, won't resist.
The drama comes to a dark end and his wife only says to him at the end. "Why didn't you just kill yourself?"
Yeah, why didn't he?
Because we're human. Evil and good, cold and soft, old and young, beautiful and ugly.
And because sometimes we have to lose control to live life again.
Black Orchid's pushing me off a little bit at first sniff.
What? This is supposed to be great Tom Ford? I smell old church, muff, basement with dried flowers and inevitably twitch a bit back.
I'm already thinking about activating the emergency shower, but then...yes, then I suddenly have a different suspicion.
It is still powerful, but also tender and comfortable, as if it wants to protect me and at the same time brings me into a strange, dark world.
I feel almost intoxicated at some point, powerless.
That's not really your direction, I think.
And maybe that's why I'm so attracted to him.
He brings out the dark, the hidden. I carry it inside me.
Do I want to follow the vortex that inevitably pulls you down? Forgive my soul? Powerless?
I don't know,
I haven't brought Black Orchid into my house yet. But you never know....
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