Voila

So there I was standing. no walking. in Paris. and from a distance I spotted the text of an independent film before it was even legible. You know the one. Handwritten. black and scrawly.
'Mister Lonely'
Oh dear. im the fish in the middle of the landing net. 'hook me' written on a billboard strapped to my head with elastic bands. two of them doubled round.
Get over it I scream to myself. Get. Over. it. Its a poster.

As I approach a little closer... central to the picture in smaller text (same font)
the directors name. Central in the poster, I might add and you might like to take note...
Harmony Korine that's who.
Voila, the next moment I was sitting there in the dark, the poster had removed itself from its wall and slapped me into the cinema seat. six rows back from the front.
...

The 'film' was bad. Oh dear. there was cringing. and lack of laughter.
However, I've never walked out of a cinema during a film. and I never will. So I didn't. And by the end, I'm hoping that all the things I got from this film were the director's intentions so I can be happy to let this film sink into my memory as 'a bit bloody clever'.