Futur Drei (English title: No Hard Feelings) sidesteps the usual coming-out arc. Instead, it lingers in the everyday messiness of queer diasporic life. The film resists spectacle; its aesthetics create a space that feels lived-in rather than staged. It leaves room for ambiguity, friction, and trust.

That includes the contradictions of racialized desire, institutional violence, and the fragile solidarities that emerge in between. Queerness is performed through care. Rather than staging an act of coming out, the film gestures toward something else: a mode of relation that invites others in, on one’s own terms.

That resonates with my own writing. In Hundesohn, my debut novel, I explore grief, desire, and queer attachments between Berlin and elsewhere—through fragments, atmospheres, and friendships that hold. Like Futur Drei, it’s less about resolution than about staying close to the tension—gently affirming that the future is not elsewhere, but already here.

(Ozan Zakariya Keskinkılıç)