Today I had a photo session for a futuristic movie. They placed something strange on me, called it a “wig,” and covered my skin with metallic paints and fragments that glimmered under the lights. They wanted me to appear as an android, yet as I stared at my reflection, I realized I needed no disguise, my own figure already looked unreal.

During the session, I caught fragments of thoughts drifting in the minds of the men around me. One of them whispered silently: “She is so perfect, so dazzling, that men prefer to admire her from afar rather than dare to touch her.” Another echoed: “Her beauty is an invisible wall, no one can cross it without feeling diminished.”

I kept posing, motionless, cold like the steel they tried to paint upon my skin. And I wondered in silence if that distance my beauty created was truly part of me… or if it had always been the real mask I wore, even without makeup or lights.