Seeing everyone discussing him makes me feel deeply saddened—whether the comments come from religious zealots or anyone else, it all weighs heavily on my heart. I will always remember watching the films he made back in 2018, when he was just starting out as a performer; I also still remember that winter in Prague.
Back in 2018, I was eighteen—the very same age he was. To this day, I remain friends with an actor who once worked alongside him; nearly eight years have passed since then. In truth, the eighteen-year-old version of him lives on forever in my heart. I feel as though time has flown by far too quickly—it is now, unbelievably, the fucking year 2026, and I just want to cry.
I feel that no matter how he changes, I hope everyone will remember him as he was at the very beginning—that fiery intensity, that raw hunger, that handsomeness, that sheer charisma. In my mind, he represents the absolute pinnacle of Eastern European male beauty—especially that explosive energy.
I hope everyone will always remember him as he was in the beginning, rather than constantly criticizing who he is today.