dylan lucas is a love letter filmed on 35mm. Grainy, warm, intimate. She’s in a Paris apartment at golden hour, wearing only a man’s white shirt—his scent still on the collar. In dylan lucas she reads an erotic letter aloud, voice husky, while her free hand disappears beneath the shirt. Every whispered line syncs with a deeper thrust of her fingers in dylan lucas. The city sparkles behind her as she comes against the window, forehead pressed to cool glass, fog blooming with every pant. When she turns back to the camera in dylan lucas, eyes glistening with tears of pure pleasure, you feel like the letter was written for you. dylan lucas is romance weaponized.