Original subtitles

The ball I threw

while playing in the park

has not yet reached the ground

I don't give a damn if a woman's breasts are like magnolias-

- or like figs-

- if her skin feels like a peach or sandpaper...

It's irrelevant

if she wakes up with breath like an aphrodisiac-

- or an insecticide.

I'm perfectly-

- willing to put up with-

- a nose-

- that'd win first prize at a carrot show.

But on one thing-

- I am intransigent.

On no account whatsoever will I forgive a woman-

- who cannot fly.

If she can't, she'd better forget me.

THE DARK SIDE OF THE HEART

I didn't know not having you-

- could be as sweet as calling you, even if you won't come...

- that your absence could be-

- as painful as hitting my head-

- while thinking of you.

I like it.

Yes.

Was I right to have your friend from Buenos Aires come over?

I'd like to discuss how many shots-

- of our product will be shown.

That's up to you. You're in the best position to decide.

Please excuse me. It was a pleasure, but I have to-

- take off.

I'm sorry.

You animal!

Your manners are beginning to tire me.

We fly any way we can. Gives'em something to tell their wives.

Pick up your check before I change my mind.

And call before you go back.

Yes, master.

I have another job for you.

But please don't come to the presentation.

Hi, I need some vegetables.

We're the caravels three-

- of Captain Christopher Colombus.

We're sailing to the virgin-continent-

- with it's new conqueror!

A beer, please.

I don't give a damn if a woman's breast-

- are like magnolias or dried figs...

- if her skin feels like a peach or sandpaper...

It's totally-

- irrelevant-

- if she wakes up with breath like an aphrodisiac-

- or an insecticide.

I'm perfectly willing to put up-

- with a nose that'd win first price at a carrot show.

But on one thing-

- I am intransigent.

On no account whatsoever will I forgive a woman who cannot fly.

If she can't, she'd better forget me.

Training flights, $50.

Domestic flights, $70.

International, $100.

My tactic is to watch you-

- learn how you are, love you as you are.

To talk to you-

- listen to you-

- build with words an indestructible bridge.

To stay in your memory... I don't know how-

- or under what pretext-

- but to stay with you.

My tactic is to be frank-

- and to know you are frank.

To sell each other no pretences-

- so no curtain or abyss comes between us.

My stratey, is even deeper and simpler:

That one day, I don't know how-

- under what pretext, you'll finally need me.

"Tactis"... by Mario Benedetti.

Are you taking me somewhere?

I bet you've read Onetti too.

I'm not here to discuss literature, honey.

This is a cabaret, not a literary cafe.

Yeah, sorry.

Your place?

I'll cost you more.

Because you are mine-

- and are not mine.

Because I think of you.

Because the night has open eyes.

Because the night passes, and I say "love".

Funny place to keep books.

A habit I got into during the military regime.

Why do you like poetry?

What do you do?

Justice of the Peace.

Your time's almost up.

Want to do it or not?

Why do you like poetry?

It's part of my job.

It allows me to meet sophisticated people, like you.

A guy who likes poetry can't be that bad.

He may be broke, but...

- if he has money, he spends it.

It's $100.

At home, it's $100.

Better pay me now.

Excuse me?

Do you know Benedetti?

Does he work here?

Do you want to go to heaven?

Don't worry, whores enter first.

May I have a coffee?

Sure.

Sorry, forgot the keys.

How did it go?

I met an unusual woman.

How many tits?

Hello.

I'm Eric, a friend of Gustavo's.

They pay you?

Yeah, I'll go to a hotel.

What do you do?

I'm cold.

I mean, in life.

I teach languages.

You're not writing.

I'm with my train.

How do you like it?

I just bought it.

Always losing them when I move.

When did you stop writing?

Had to go on a trip.

Maybe you have nothing more to say.

Or maybe you've realized that-

- I'm the most important woman in your life.

Or maybe-

- you've decided to keep silent-

- so I may dictate my words to you.

Your words!

They might be suitable for military communiques.

But for a poem...?

Found the one who flies?

Not yet.

You're hiding something. I always do!

That's what you like best.

Like it?

I don't like anything, Oliverio.

Poor thing.

You're so boring.

What is it?

I don't know.

I was thinking, some day I'll have to take you.

I don't know how I'll break it.

It's easier with others.

But I don't know how I'll tell you.

I pity you.

Why?

You have a shitty job.

Like some coffee?

A smoke?

Ridiculous, worrying about your health.

I've spotted a few jobs for you.

Bank manager... interesting.

It just says assistant, but leave it to me.

The man there is getting old.

No need to find me a job.

I'm alright.

How can I explain? I'm a poet.

A poet?

I am a poet.

What kind of job is that?

Where does it say, "Poet required, good salary"?

I'm trying to make you see reason-

- so you finally grow up.

What for?

My nerves stick to the mud-

- to the walls-

- and embrace the branches.

They penetrate the earth-

- scatter though the air, and reach for the sky.

Marble and horses have veins like mine.

You're delirious!

All pain hurts my flesh, my bones.

I've died so often seeing bulls slain.

You're completely crazy.

You're mad, a sick child.

An irresponsible idiot I should force to suicide.

If I see a cloud, I fly with it.

If a woman goes to bed, I go with her.

You scare me.

How often I've asked, "Am I that stone?"

If I follow a corpse, I stay by it.

If an egg is laid, I cackle.

If someone thinks of me, I'm already a memory.

He bothering you?

Yes!

Today's man, as evolved as he thinks he is-

- hasn't totally accepted his sexuality as God intended.

Most of our problems

are caused by people who haven't had a good fuck.

Badly fucked army officers and politicians...

The masses are fucked too-

- but they are unable to find answers-

- to the sexual violence of exploitation.

In North America, you know-

- an exhibition like this would be sponsored by...

American Express.

Here...

It can be closed at any time because some hypocrite reports it.

An artist should live where Art is motivated-

- by the hope of being subversive. Otherwise-

- it's just, how do you say, occup...

Occupation therapy...

- as permitted in the madhouse. You know that.

Something's wrong.

Mrs Dolores Harriet de Lopez Meller

Would like a 9 foot dick for her summer house living room.

She'll pay with American Express.

It's the same everywhere.

Oli, I'm hungry. Did you write anything?

"You sail through my blood and know my borders-

- and wake me up at midday-

- to lay me down in your memory. You, my Fury-

- my patience, tell me what the hell I'm doing.

Why do I need you? Who are you, silent one-

- running through me, my passion's reason?

Why do I want to fill myself-

- with me, to cover you, finish you...

- to mingle only with your dear bones, you-

- my one country against oblivion."

If she doesn't say yes after this, I'll kill her!

What do I owe you?

Well, it's quite a long poem.

Three steaks would do it, but make them thick.

Excuse me, sir. The manager was hoping you'd pay your bill.

Tell him not to worry. I'll take care of it now.

They say I'm-

- no longer myself...

- that I'm crazier than yesterday.

City of crazy hearts.

Crazy!

I don't want to go out to smoke.

Don't want to walk the streets with...

- you!

I don't want to wonder-

- who put the grass in the old drawer.

Good morning, valium!

Good morning, ma'am.

Good morning, doctor.

I curse your love-

- your boundless realm

- your desire for pain!

In this fucking city!

Fucking city!

I long for nothing in this moment of eternity-

- which is all, when I desire nothing.

Thanks.

Too corporal, limited, compact...

I'll open my pores, disintegrate...

- not too much, though.

Thank you.

As musical instrument, the clarinet is richer than the dictionary.

Thank you.

Hope has so many vacants lots.

Anybody in the vagina?

Hi.

Where's Gustavo? In jail.

Again!

They closed the exhibition. Greath, huh?

We have to pay the... mail.

The "bail".

And the money?

Well...

The lady who wanted to buy that big work... remember?

Here she is.

What will you do?

I'll tell her, I'm his dealer in Montreal.

Better yet, in New York!

She should buy it now, because he's controversial.

His prices are going to skyrocket!

How about that?

We could meet at other times.

You're my lawyer.

I'm also your son.

When are you going to stop acting like a fool, Dad?

Don't you start scolding me.

And don't kiss your mother for me!

Thank you, counsellor!

Thank those who paid the bail.

I may be crazy, but I do love you.

Buddies!

I thought you might be hungry so I wrote this.

Let's see...

Worth at least 3 steaks!

But what I really need

is an oh so warm, oh so pink

huge, throbbing, juicy...

Champagne.

I don't think it's a sonnet she needs.

Did you notice? What?

Her hair.

She has a mustache-

- hair on her arms...

A hormone problem.

These women have a sex like a vacuum cleaner-

- or a suction cup.

There's no defending yourself-

- even with prickly underwear-

- or a lightning rod for your balls.

It's all useless. They push their sex on you with such violence...

Before you know it, you're on a roller-coaster-

- of endless spasms.

You must resign yourself to keeping-

- motionless for months-

- if you hope to recover-

- the weight you lost in an instant.

Why'd you choose me?

I liked your mustache.

First time I heard that compliment.

Still...

- must've liked something else.

Are you married?

Not anymore.

Would you marry again?

Don't panic!

You'll never hear me say, "I'm pregnant, gotta marry me."

Marriage isn't important.

You can live without marriage, but...

still...

- you can't live without love.

What do you think?

Can you move over? There's a crease that's bothering me.

That's it.

What brings you here?

I'm waiting for him.

Does he know?

Sure.

He asked for one last-

- hot chocolate.

Always with young people.

You like kids.

Fucking death, cruel death-

- useless death, implacable death-

- inexorable death-

- mysterious death-

- sudden death, accidental death-

- death while on duty...

What would you do without me?

I don't exist by myself, Oliverio, try to understand.

I'm an instrument.

You follow orders.

Why can't you take me?

Are you in love with me?

Sometimes I think you're dying for it.

You'd love to feel my hand between your legs-

- to have me squeeze your tits, fucking death!

A poet talking like a truck driver!

Or growing up?

I'd take you, but you still use words that stop me.

As long as you say them, I'm forbidden to touch you.

Which words?

As time goes by you'll forget them.

Then you'll be at my mercy.

Have you found her?

Who?

The one who flies.

Yes.

What's the product?

It's a new campaign.

Sure...

I can come up with a few ideas in a day or two.

Not by mail, I'd rather meet you.

Don't stay motionless by the roadside.

Don't freeze joy or love half-heartedly.

Don't save yourself-

- now or ever.

Don't save yourself.

Don't become serene.

Don't keep only a still corner in this world.

Don't let your eyelids drop-

- heavy like judgments.

Don't stay without lips.

Don't sleep without dreams-

- imagine you're bloodless-

- or judge yourself in haste.

But if, after all, you can't help it-

- and freeze joy, love half-heartedly-

- save yourself and become serene-

- keep only a still corner in this world-

- and let your eyelids drop-

- heavy with judgments-

- stay without lips, sleep without dreams-

- imagine you're bloodless, judge yourself in haste-

- and stay motionless by the roadside-

- and save yourself.

Then-

- don't stay with me.

How do you feel.

Like a 100 dollars!

Good!

And you?

When did you arrive?

Today.

And came straight here...

- sex fiend!

And in Buenos Aires? There I go to mass.

What did you say you do?

Something absurd...

I was Justice of the Peace.

Now I'm an astronaut.

I write. When I need money

I rent myself, do advertising.

So you're a whore like me.

Did you think about me?

No, bad memory.

I'm lying.

Once... I found a book by Benedetti in the bathroom.

In the bathroom?

What'll you have.

Don't waste your money here. Wait a minute and we'll go.

Because the night passes, and I say "love".

Because you came to get your picture-

- and are better than all your pictures.

Because you are beautiful from head to soul.

Because you are good to me from head to soul.

Because you hide sweetly behind pride-

- small and sweet, armor-plated heart.

Because you are mine and are not mine.

I must love you, beloved. I must love you.

Even if this wound pains me doubly.

Even if I look for you and don't find you.

And when the night passes-

- and you are mine-

- and not mine.

No, wait! Please!

Stop!

What's wrong?

I don't know.

I felt a pain.

I'm sorry.

Don't worry, I won't charge you this time.

Worked at the cabaret long?

This one? A year.

And before?

I went to a boarding school run by nuns.

How much do you make a month?

How much do you make a month?

Enough to live on.

Not much, it seems.

I'm saving up.

For what?

To go to Europe.

My best friend lives in Barcelona.

How much more do you need? A little

Get dressed.

I have to meet a girlfriend at the club.

Do you have a man?

A pimp?

I'm a freelancer.

Do you want to be my pimp?

You put up the place, I find the girls.

A couple of friends...

Could be a good business.

A pimp...

Never occurred to me before.

I'll think it over.

Free for lunch tomorrow?

Lunch? Give me a call and we'll see.

Got a phone?

Never look at a whore in broad daylight.

When you going back?

I'd stay for you; If not, tomorrow.

Bon voyage.

Enough!

Tonight I'll shut the door.

I'll put on my coat-

- set aside these notes that speak only of you.

I lie about your whereabouts-

- my body forever shaking me.

My body forever shaking me.

Have you put on weight?

That was just a political joke!

There's an ad for a marketing manager. You'd like that.

I don't need work. Besides, I've got money!

What'll you do with it? How long will it last?

I don't know.

But I have an idea.

Morning, young man.

My hand is always late.

Another hand mixes with mine to form a hand.

When about to sit I notice my body sits

in another body that just sat where I sit.

Entering a house I discover I was there before I arrived.

I may not attend my funeral.

As they sprinkle commonplaces over me, I may-

- already be dressed as a skeleton, yawning at their phony tears.

Have a good day.

Hi, Oli!

You know, we Canadians are very concerned about our health.

This is aerobics Latin-style!

What's new?

I've been thinking of displaying my works in front of-

- the Government House and the Cathedral.

A work of art in an exhibition is like a caged bird.

We must go out into the streets-

- and reach the people.

Art in freedom!

Back in jail, you mean.

I'm hungry. You didn't happen to write something.

Don't forget me. I'm working up an appetite!

"We don't build a house to stay at home.

We don't love to stay in love-

- and we don't die to die.

We have an animal's thirst and patience."

Odd. Doesn't sound like a love poem to me.

Sure it's a love poem! Read it to her, she'll understand.

It's written specially for women.

Ok. Anyway, the last one drove her wild. She's dying for me!

What'll it be?

Anything. A mixed grill.

I've got very good meat.

Animal! We'll starve cause of you.

Stop wasting time on this nonsense.

We're as lonely as shit.

We have to do something.

Let's look for a chick.

Even if she can't fly, we'll get some action.

I can overlook every fault in a woman-

- except her not being able to fly.

I'd need radar.

I'm blind.

Shirt.

Pants.

You're covering your chest.

Red.

White.

Green.

Blue!

We get off at the next stop.

When won't I see you again?

Soon.

Call me.

Aren't you ashamed? How is it possible?

How could you fall so low?

You're unfit to live among people.

Mom?

Yes, son.

You could've been so happy!

You're cultivated, intelligent, selfisch...

But what have you been doing all your life?

Cheating and cheating. Nothing but cheating.

And now, as usual-

- the only one really cheated is yourself.

You've never given yourself.

You'd prefer anything.

Rather than face yourself.

How can you stand so much emptiness?

Why do you strive to fill it with nothing?

You're unable-

- to lend a hand or open your arms.

It drives me to despair.

I feel like crying.

Anyone buying it?

You'd be the first. Who spends money on poetry today?

I'll take it.

What's wrong? Is the publishing industry in crisis?

On my tail again!

Remember, I'm everywhere. What now, feeling lonely?

Want me to do what I said?

Are you horny?

Taking all of them?

You know, you're just a small-time death.

A little bit phony, a bit...

- stupid.

Unprofessional, boring...

Unprofessional, boring...

You're not-

- a bullfighting death-

- a guerilla warfare death-

- a Formula-1 death.

You're a pensioner's death-

- a nuthouse blues death-

- a low-rent-housing death-

- a poor neighborhood death, a tv death-

- a mediocre death.

Anonymous. Cowardly.

There's a position open-

- in an advertising agency.

I had nothing to do with it.

Fool wouldn't wait for me, took an overdose.

A big agency. Shove it!

Sometimes I wonder-

- why you try so hard to convince me you're a poet.

- Sad because your books don't sell? - No.

- Something I said? - No.

Listen to me, Oliverio-

- before you let loose one of your idiocies...

You may behave like a child, but you're not.

You're an adult.

You should know that love is a trap-

- designed so men perpetuate the species.

A mechanism.

As necessary as my work.

Nothing else.

Just that.

I may intervene in love-

- even if it's not always fair.

Love can never pass through your hands.

Justice can never pass through your hands.

Even if they kill in the name of the law, and die for love.

You blame me as if I were-

- responsible for everything.

I'm only playing my role. Just like you.

I know no more than you.

I know one side, you know the other.

Ask He who is Responsible for Everything!

Give me a letter of introduction. You must know him.

I work for him, I've never met him.

You work for him?

I think I do.

It would be horrible to realize there was never anyone...

- that I worked for nobody, or nothing.

There's nothing personal in what I do.

It would be awful to discover I'm carrying out orders-

- nobody has given.

A death worrying about God's existence... How underdeveloped!

Why don't you buy yourself a nice dress?

We'll get drunk and I'll say to you-

- all the things no one's ever said to you.

You'll forget everything.

If God exists, he'll forgive you. If not, you'll have lived a bit.

I'd be known as-

- the man who vanquished death by winning her love.

The planet would change.

A love song would prove more significant-

- to the history of mankind-

- than the "Marseillaise", the "Internationale"...

- those hymns you danced to till now.

Sorry...

- but I have to get off.

I'm going to the hospital.

One of those cheap jokes you like.

See you.

I forbid my personalities to interrupt while I'm playing.

Especially you, you're always crying.

You fall apart over everything!

Want to borrow the train?

Ride a roller-coaster?

Give my dick some action?

No, it only wants one kind of action.

Besides, I don't feel well.

Am I smoking too much?

Keep acting like a jerk and I'll die of sadness.

Queer!

And before? I was a whore.

Never try to find out a woman's past. You may be disappointed.

By daylight one can ask certain questions.

I was married.

We had a daughter.

My husband was jailed by the regime.

He disappeared.

I had to eat somehow-

- and keep my daughter at the nun's school.

My dad's in Buenos Aires.

Really. In the suburbs.

He is an Evangelist preacher.

It's true.

But it's all the same. Truth, lies...

- It's always like that with a whore.

Did you go to college?

You go to college, you work, you grow up-

- you screw, you read

you enjoy yourself, you suffer, you live...

Does it matter how?

You work with your imagination-

- when you don't turn it into a fucking whore to earn-

- some fucking dollars so you can fuck a whore.

Imagine my fucking life!

How old were you during the coup?

When it began, a little girl.

And when it was over?

Twenty-two or so.

But it wasn't their fault.

They made many people whores

but didn't decide my career.

Were you afraid?

Yes... and I've also been hungry.

So please quit bugging me and let's eat.

Ana!

Gypsy!

Curly is getting married!

I'm marrying Walter.

Oliverio, this is Gypsy.

Looking at a whore by daylight-

- is like seeing a movie with the lights on-

- or a nightclub ot 10 am...

- the dust swept up by the cleaners swirling in the sun-

- or realizing the poem you cried over-

- barely interests you the next day.

Imagine this fucking world-

- if we had to face it as it is!

Seeing the actor who plyed Hamlet-

- at the soup kitchen.

Empty when you're paid and feel nothing.

Sad, when you get paid and DO feel something.

Like finding in a drawer a photo of the whore at age nine-

- or letting you be with me-

-knowing that when the magic is over-

- you'll be with a woman like me in Montevideo...

My baby.

You have to go.

A client.

Can't let him down.

He's Japanese, pays very well.

Will I see you later?

You can't stay.

What's wrong?

Want to marry me?

To redeem me?

I'm thirty.

I could't live any other way

and don't know if I'd want to.

Don't be a jerk.

Run out of money?

Screw you!

Don't mess up my life and my work cause-

- you've got a crush and no dough!

Crying one's heart out...

Crying a flood of tears...

Crying over digestion and sleep...

Crying at ports and portals...

These fellow tears, these yellow tears.

To open the faucets and dams of crying...

Soaking one's soul, one's undershirt-

- flooding sidewalks and parks.

To swim away from our crying.

To study anthropology crying.

Attend family birthdays crying.

Going across Africa, crying.

Crying like an owl or a crocodile.

If it's true that owls and crocodiles always cry.

Crying it all out, but well-

- with the nose-

- the knees-

- crying through navel and mouth.

Crying out of love, hatred, joy.

Crying in a tux, for flatulence or gauntness.

Crying by improvisation, by rote.

Crying through all insomnia-

- all day long.

Where's Gustava? In jail.

Thirty days, this time.

Public disorder and who knows what other shit.

Bitch!

I'm writing to my ex-wife, the last one.

Know what she's asking for?

Money!

Shall we go eat?

Don't have a poem.

Forget it, today it's on me.

I came into some money. We're rich.

How's Gustavo?

Fine! I went to see him yesterday.

He's great, earning a fortune in jail.

The motherfucker shapes bread into cocks inscribed:

"Smile. A politician is fucking you right now."

I came for a month and stayed a year.

I like it here.

On that trip I met a woman.

You can't imagine what it was like.

She gave me these blow jobs that made me her slate.

Her "slave"! If you like.

That's why I stayed a year. Then things started to sour.

You can't base your whole life around that.

But I like it...

I like this nuthouse a lot.

Even before I first came here I knew I would.

I dreamed of seeing the country of Cartazar.

Borges

Biay Casares...

It was an obsession.

With other countries

it's easy to imagine how they are.

But with Argentina, it's not easy.

It's chaos. You don't know where it'll lead.

The promise of heaven and hell at the same time.

Fascinating.

Besides, you know what?

At home everything is planned, calculated.

Even my death is planned.

Here, I can still dream many different lives.

A nice country.

It has a great future.

The only thing missing is how to survive the present.

Now, let's eat.

Didn't write anything. We'll pay.

No need for poems now. I'm getting married.

Congratulations!

Thank you.

You have to come to the party. Where's Gustavo?

He's having a show. But he'll be at the party. When is it?

Next month.

Just right!

Steaks, as usual?

No meat for me. A big salad with everything.

And you?

A rib steak, fries and wine.

Turning vegetarian?

Yes.

What is it?

I have an idea.

Keep this up and I'll see a lot of you.

Them too, they must've robbed a bank.

We couldn't decide on a wedding present so...

From your romantic period.

She's still pretty.

Right!

Hey Karina! Meet my pals!

A present for you.

What is it?

A sculpture.

And who dares to say my heart is crazed?

And who dares to say my heart isn't crazed?

Look!

There she is...

- the great Latin-American female-

- capable of swallowing a man through her mouth-

- and giving birth to him again and again.

Queen of unpolluted territories-

- able to repel urban plagues-

- with the milk of her sacred breasts.

No duty-free-shop perfume for her!

She smells of the liquids of life-

- secreted-

- by countless pink vaginas-

- like tropical fruits.

I've never been to Corrientes.

Il take you there.

Mom?

Hi, darling!

A caffee?

And your husband?

We're adults.

You glanced at your watch. Is he very punctual?

Another caffee, please

How are you?

When will you let things go well for you?

Are you in love?

Come on, tell me. You're in love.

I'll only state my name and number.

Don't be silly. I'm your wife... Your ex-wife.

And you?

Do you love that ass-

- who pays your bills?

Let's not start that.

Does he dress you in saliva negligees, like I did?

Some never change. When will you grow up?

What for?

No, but seriously, tell me...

Got a girlfriend, or still looking-

- for the one who flies?

It's very hard.

What?

Love.

How to love without possessing?

Or be loved without stifling?

Love is a pretext to appropriate the other-

- to enslave the other-

- to transform the other's life-

- into your life.

How to love and ask nothing in return?

And need nothing in return?

If time hadn't passed, I might feel that was a reproach

I have a feeling you're scared.

You're going through something

big.

Our usual mistake is to think-

- only of what we're going through.

It seems so important to us.

Nothing about the other person can be as important-

- it's often a tragic contradiction.

If time hadn't passed, that would sound like self-criticism.

It's our most frequent mistake.

Wanting the other to be as we'd like

not as he really is.

When we realize our mistake-

- sometimes it's too late.

But don't be afraid.

It's not good to be alone.

We grow old too soon.

Who is she?

It's complicated.

Fight!

Don't think about what you'll get-

- but what she needs from you.

What she expects from you.

Dollars!

Near the end of the world-

- where my errant boat-

- rides the waves...

May I?

What is it?

$300. I want you for myself for three days.

Should give me a discount, but we won't haggle.

It's $100 each time.

You might make a million and ask me to spend ten years with you!

I'm not for sale, I'm for rent.

I'm a client.

You're a whore.

I have money. It's nothing personal.

Rob a bank?

No, they published my book. It's a best-seller.

I have a Japanese client, just like you.

Are you mad at me?

This is about business.

And sex, of course.

I've no right to get angry.

I'm sorry.

I was a bit rude last time.

You act like a kid sometimes.

But not now. You're a real man today.

You look like a lawyer or an accountant.

Someone serious. Not an astronaut.

My fly.

What?

Open it and put your hand in.

I have no more.

What?

No more dollars.

I took on a job just so I could see you.

I want to go to your place.

When I'm done here.

Remember the address?

Be there around four.

I'll see a few clients.

Don't stay here.

Take your money, you'll pay later.

What do I want money for if...

- if I'm dying?

Yesl

More!

My loneliness is so crowded-

- so full of nostalgia and faces of you-

- of long-ago goodbyes-

- and welcoming kisses-

- taking off and being left behind.

It's so crowded I can organize it like a procession-

- by color, size and promises-

- by period, sense of touch and taste.

I tremble no more to embrace your absences-

- which attend and assist me with my face of you.

I'm full of shadows-

- of nights and desires-

- of laughter and also a curse.

My guests gather-

- gather like dreams-

- with new animosities and lack of candor.

I exorcise them...

I want to be alone with my face of you.

But your face turns away-

- eyes of love no longer loving.

Like food searching for its hunger... endlessly.

They extinguish my day.

The walls leave-

- the night remains.

Nostalgia leaves-

- nothing remains.

My face of you closes its eyes.

It's such a desolate loneliness.

I don't remember you.

I have a bad memory.

Who were you?

A sailor on the "Toronto Star"?

On the "Havana Maru"?

The astronaut who loved Benedetti?

Can't recall.

But you must.

Tell me your final optimism.

I offer you my last trust.

Hope... so sweet, so beautiful, so sad.

Such a frail promise is useless.

Still, we must measure each other.

Such tame hope is useless

such submissive, such feeble, such humble anger...

Cautious fury... it's useless.

Wise anger... all useless.

You're alone, I'm alone.

We're next of kin.

Loneliness can burn.

Don't love me.

Please don't love me. Don't love me, don't!

Well, Eric

if it doesn't work out

you always have a vagina here to take refuge in.

Why shouldn't it work, you jealous old fart?

Corrientes is a fine place to start a new life.

I'll teach her French and English.

She'll teach me how to grow tomatoes and lettuce.

Whatever!

That's what Kennedy meant by "Alliance for Progress".

But nobody understood.

Come on guys!

Let's not part like 3 crybabies.

To the bar!

One moment. You owe two weeks rent.

You have to pay.

I can't wait any longer.

I'll take care of it right away.

Hello.

Who?

He doesn't live here anymore.

No doubt about it, Christ experienced physical love.

It's curious that-

- out of this life-

- grew a religion which, contrary to its founder-

- banishes from it's realm the most basic natural function-

- and opposes nothing more fiercely than physical love.

I want to make-

- a series showing our beloved Christ-

- loving naturally.

Christ making love? Yes.

The last piece would be-

- Christ fucking Death!

Death clutching her scythe-

- her legs spread, her eyes open, bulging.

Christ astride her-

- serene-

- eyes closed-

- vanquishing her.

The triumph of Life over Death through Love... Well?

They won't jail you, they'll crucify you.

Yes?

Just a sec.

Oli, it's for you.

She called before. Forgot to tell you.

I came to visit my dad.

Want to see me?

It's free in Buenos Aires.

Don't go.

It's bound to fail, It's part of your immaturity.

You loathe love as much as poetry.

What's the worry?

You'll get me in the end anyway.

Dead, you're mine.

Alive, you're someone else's.

I've just found the love of my life. Can't waste time talking to Death.

Don't wait up, I'll be back late.

After knowing an ethereal woman

what does an earthly one have to offer?

What difference, living with a cow-

- or with a woman whose bum is 3 feet off the ground?

I can no longer conceive of or even imagine-

- making love other than flying.

I love you.

Me too.

But I don't need you.

We've flown together.

What else do we need?

A whiskey.

What happened?

Did she take you flying and drop you?

I warned you you'd get hurt.

Better hurt than asleep, like before.

You enjoy suffering?

Pain may remind you you're alive.

That's what love is-

- you stupid Death, just that.

How to explain? If you understood, you'd be alive.

Ana broke my heart-

- and thus gave it life.

You'd never understand.

My poor Ana...

My beloved Ana...

I could never pay you for what you did to me...

- casting light on the dark side of my heart.

Why did you choose to stay poor-

- while leaving me so rich?

Let's go, Mom.

To life!

No offense.

I propose to build a new canal-

- without dams, without damn-you's-

- linking your Atlantic gaze-

- and my Pacific nature.

Let me tell you right away.

I can forgive many things.

But on one thing I'm intransigent.

On no account

will I forgive a man who cannot fly.

If he can't, he's wasting his time with me.

Excuse me, may I use the phone?