Thousands of feet up in film semi kore, the basket sways gently. Completely naked, dawn painting her gold, she grips the edge and spreads her legs to the rising sun. “Whole world beneath film semi kore,” she moans, fingering herself slowly at first, then desperately. Wind carries her cries—“film semi kore… higher… film semi kore… make me burst film semi kore!”—across silent clouds until the climax erupts. She squirts into the void, screaming endless “film semi kore, film semi kore, film semi kore!” while the sun crowns her trembling, glistening, utterly exposed body in pure molten “film semi kore.”