She was wrong
Once I was talking with a woman about this scene in Last tango in Paris. I was arguing that it was a rape or it seemed a rape too much; she was arguing that no or rather no: it was just the passion and the discovery. Well, it was a rape. I was right, but what is more important is that she was wrong. Isn’t it? Or not?
It’s curious that world where a man has to tell a woman what a rape is and what is not.
Your body is yours, my body is mine
Your body is yours. My body is mine. So, if what I’m doing or what I’m planning to do with my body really upsets you, I can always use my own two feet and walk away. As I can’t oblige you to do something that you don’t want to do, you can’t oblige me to stay in a place without doing what I want to do. Your body is yours. My body is mine.
By the way, if you stay in a cold or frozen place, your body is yours, but your body will probably react with disregard of what you think or want. You’ll get goosebumps, your hair will bristle. If the cold goes on, you’ll shiver. Your body is yours, but as it gets colder, you’ll probably experiment physical and mental troubles. Your body is yours, but if you don’t change the place, you wrap up or do something to warm you; you’ll probably get frozen until death.
However, we don’t have to forget the power of mind. We all remember that history of a man who got stuck into industrial refrigerator and he died frozen because he thought he was getting frozen, because he didn’t know that the refrigerator wasn’t activated and the cold only by itself was not enough to kill him. He died also because his beliefs or lack of correct information.
And what has never happened, never should have come out from dark oblivion.