In the City of Men - Day 7

And what are truly the unfalsified desires or fantasies of someone who is 46 years old and has seen it all? ("Seen" is the appropriate term here, for even if I didn't practice certain things personally nor participate in them directly, I probably saw them at least on stage in one of the reputed theatres here in Amsterdam). As the outcome, I suppose I grew very conservative in my tastes (although "conservative" is a slippery word), and actively against the vulgar globalised porn culture. We are what we see, never enough warning against its dangers. The toxin enters deep, infecting dreams, desires, intimacies. Once seen, there is no way to "un-see" it. The image stays forever encrusted in the brain. 
This is a big question what I would like to take, or let in, to my new Dutch home. It is not a surprise if I say I would like to have a new library. I tried to collect erotic books since my youth, but most of the things I could get in Poland are good only for the recycling bin. In general, things from Poland are to forget, although, as I've said, there is no way to "un-see" them. Even if they are nothing daring or particularly shocking, the recollection may be disturbing and unwanted. Just to give an example. Polish culture never produced a lot in terms of erotic motives, but certain images of the failure of eroticism as such are very suggestive. Like in Koterski's movie "Nothing funny" (Nic smiesznego), where a failed film director fails in his successive approaches either to women or to erotic art. On one occasion, he is invited into a surreal bedroom decorated with a collection of tiny crystal phials and goblets. That start to tremble as soon as he is attempting his due activities. The reminiscence of this movie creates a sort of interference in my head every time I put my silver khulkhal (the one that I had nailed to the wall). The hidden purpose of the hundreds little bells attached to it is of course not that of producing the clank while walking, which is enough to irritate a camel, but to make a tiny little jangle in quite different circumstances. Having seen Polish movies just once ruins the whole effect forever. 
So I would like to rebuild my stock from the scratch, as far as it is possible. I appreciate poetry, which is beyond any possible translation; I like Abu Nuwas especially, but there is much more. I like Japanese stuff, perhaps the only truly creative culture in the world in this aspect. At the same time, I am someone to appreciate certain moments from Bollywood movies, that conserve the power of metaphor which is largely lost in Western Europe. I hate French stuff; it often seems to me they are stuck in the shadow of the Divine Marquis and unable to move beyond. But all this is learned, transmitted, inherited.
What is truly mine in the complete collection of erotica universalis? That's the big question. And, at the same time, here is the heaviest restriction of all, when it comes to selecting a suitable partner. The restriction on intelligence and sensibility that leaves 99% of men out of the game.