The first time I experienced BBC was with my wife. It was something she told me she wanted to experience. It wasn’t something I ever thought would be a defining moment in my life. She asked me to capture the moment on film, a memory she could hold onto forever. Something tangible, something timeless—an image frozen in time. As I watched her being torn apart from the inside out, a strange mix of emotions churned within me. A deep, inescapable hopelessness settled in my chest, knowing there was nothing I could do to stop it, nothing I could change. And yet—against all reason—there was also something else. A flicker of joy. Not the kind born from cruelty or malice, but from the undeniable fact that she seemed… happy.
Garbage.
Horrible
The first time I experienced BBC was with my wife. It was something she told me she wanted to experience. It wasn’t something I ever thought would be a defining moment in my life. She asked me to capture the moment on film, a memory she could hold onto forever. Something tangible, something timeless—an image frozen in time. As I watched her being torn apart from the inside out, a strange mix of emotions churned within me. A deep, inescapable hopelessness settled in my chest, knowing there was nothing I could do to stop it, nothing I could change. And yet—against all reason—there was also something else. A flicker of joy. Not the kind born from cruelty or malice, but from the undeniable fact that she seemed… happy.