I think that this film is one of those that respect the relativity of thinking.
The poet approaching the real essence of expression is the key of creation, he creates himself with just an instinct. This opens the door to the soul of the poet, he explores everything, and all brings suffering.
He mirrors the reality to herself and brings the human being to his instinct, which can't see the difference between good and evil, but can only see reality…
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The Blood of a Poet 1932
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