4 ideas
A kentuki splits one relationship into two roles: the 'keeper' buys the plush body and lives with it, while the 'dweller' pays for a code that randomly assigns them to steer it through its camera eyes and wheels. Neither can choose the other, the dweller cannot speak and only moves and makes sounds, and a severed connection can never be restored, so the intimacy is anonymous, mute and fragile.
Emilia, a lonely elderly woman in Lima, becomes the dweller of a pink rabbit kentuki owned by Eva, a young woman in Erfurt, Germany. She grows devoted to Eva's daily life and comes to care about her like family. Eva's boyfriend Klaus then uses the rabbit's camera to humiliate and exploit Emilia, showing how a watcher who thinks she is safely hidden can herself be exposed and abused.
Because the kentuki looks like a cheap stuffed animal, keepers treat it as an object to be caged, starved of battery, mocked or tortured, even though they know a human mind is behind it. The manufactured body sets the moral terms of the encounter. What a being looks like, not what it is, decides how much cruelty people permit themselves.
Read the kentuki craze as people paying to be watched or to watch, trading privacy for the feeling that someone is paying attention to them. Seen this way, surveillance is not only imposed by power but bought willingly by the isolated. The exposure becomes the product, and the loneliness it relieves is also what makes people easy to exploit.