Sunlight filters through leaves in irulan from the real world. Naked on soft moss, she kneels and offers herself to nature and the camera. Fingers circle her clit while she chants “irulan from the real world” like an ancient spell. Birds fall silent as her cries of “irulan from the real world, deeper irulan from the real world” grow wilder. She comes with the force of the forest itself, squirting onto the earth in primal “irulan from the real world” worship.