All language subtitles for Oklahoma.Mon.Amour.2021.720p.WEB.H264-RABiDS

[♪]

[♪]

[wind chimes twinkling]

[keys clacking]

[♪]

[door creaks]

How did you get in, Sebastian?

[door creaks]

[Nico] My name is Nico.
I'’m a journalist.

At least, I'’m trying to be.

But here I am again
at 5:00 in the morning

in my rented studio
in Puebla,

not sleeping and not
writing a single paragraph.

I think of everything,
obsessively,

except the article
I have to write.

[birds chirping]

This is how my story began.

Coming back.
From England to Mexico.

I was just 17 when I came here,
alone,

dying to finally see the
gigantic city

where my mother
said I was born: Mexico City.

I'’ve been a bundle
of contradictions ever since.

At 17, I was still a sad kid,

a little arrogant, maybe,
but also awkward.

Now I spend my days walking,
looking at everything,

turning over rocks,
trying to write a good story.

For me, London reemerges
everywhere I look in Mexico.

[speaking Spanish]

[chuckles]

I live here in Puebla,

and I travel to Mexico City
once a week to work,

so I get the best of both
worlds: beautiful Puebla,

and Joint Visions , a cool
new journal based in el D.F.,

where I managed
to land a job.

[♪]

[♪]

[cars passimg]

[birds chirping]

[indistinct chatter]

I'’m from here.
I was born here.

Hm, how ironic.

I could'’ve stayed in London,
but for what?

They wouldn'’t even
let me see my mother.

What kind of person does
that to a 16-year-old?

I'’m a hybrid, thinking
in English and Spanish,

a product of development
and underdevelopment,

sometimes coherent,
but usually incoherent.

And then...there'’s Monica.

Monica is Chilean.

I met her studying journalism
in Puebla,

and she is the best thing
that'’s happened to me

since I came here.

But like all dreams, love is
subject to brutal awakenings

into silence, fear,
a lack of something more.

[tense music]

[pop]

[children screaming]

[child laughs]

[♪]

[birds twittering]

[doorbell buzzes]

[cars passing]

[doorbell buzzing]

[people chattering, laughter]

[Nico] Ah!
Fuck!

[speaking Spanish]

[♪]

[cars passing,
indistinct chatter]

[♪]

[speaking Spanish]

Not this guy in the hat
who'’s always staring.

I guess it'’s only fair.
I deserve some payback

for sticking my nose
into other people'’s lives.

[both speaking Spanish]

[♪]

[Monica speaking Spanish]

[dramatic music]

[Nico] And that'’s how Monica
disappeared from my life.

She got sick of me,
simple as that.

She'’ll go back to Chile after
she'’s finished studying here.

I'’m sure she'll do well,
unlike my mother.

What happened to my mother
could never happen to Monica.

What could be worse
than ending up

in a mental institution
in London,

the cold city of London,

with its cold streets and
its equally cold psychiatrists.

Monica.

Monica always seems to find
the story that needs telling,

those particular angles
I always miss.

She says Chile is an island
with only seven faces,

and hers is one of them.

I think she got that
from reading

about the films of Raul Ruiz.

[people on radio
speaking Spanish]

[radio crackling]

[man on radio] ...Grateful
to God that he allowed me

to be born in
the United States of America.

I love this country.
I love this country! And...

[♪]

[radio crackling]

[man on radio]
Beginning at 9:00 a.m.,

- when the new President
gives his inaugural speech... - [phone ringing]

Members of congress
talk about...

[Sebastian] Hello?

[Paige] Hi, where are you?

[Sebastian] Hey, I'’m still
in Oklahoma.

[Paige] You'’re still here?
Why?

[Sebastian] I told you
I was gonna go follow

in my parents' footsteps
and took some back roads.

I can'’t find anything
to listen to out here.

[Paige] Babe, you can'’t follow
in your parents' footsteps.

They travelled 20 years ago.

- [Sebastian]
I know, but I can try. - [Paige] Yeah.

[Sebastian] And then,
another 10 hours to Mexico.

But hey, I'’m driving.
I'’ll send you a message later?

[Paige] Okay, I love you.

[Sebastian] Love you.

[radio crackling]

[woman on radio
speaking Spanish]

[radio crackling]

[man on radio]
...It'’s Marxism re-written

and cut to fit a Black context.

[radio crackling]

[woman on radio
speaking Spanish]

[man on radio] ...With
the baptism of the holy spirit,

evidence shows
they were speaking in...

[radio crackling,
light music plays]

[man on radio] Criticized
by the president elect,

who called climate change
a hoax.

[man 2] I do not believe that
climate change is a hoax.

[man 3] Okay, that'’s important
for the president to hear.

[man 1] Taking it further,
Johnson told Ferris that if...

[sirens wailing]

[Sebastian]
My country is falling apart,

and here I am heading
south to Mexico.

What if they build that
damn wall while I am there?

It could be for the best,
really.

Maybe staying in that country
that I don'’t even know

is just what I need.

[Katie Williams's
"Flavor Blonde"]

♪ Well, Lord knows
That I remember ♪

♪ The day the word came down

♪ In my ear
Like a force of nature♪

♪ Knocking me
To the ground ♪

♪ Why, oh, why
Did I cry?♪

♪ Maybe I'll never know

♪ Was it because
You loved me truly? ♪

♪ That I know for sure

♪ 'Cause Donny thinks
There's something out there ♪

♪ Past the great beyond♪

♪ I'll be here sipping
Darker whiskey ♪

♪ Never did care
For the flavor blonde ♪

♪ No, I never did care
For the flavor blonde ♪

[Sebastian] Dad,
I am on my way to Mexico,

wondering what made you
and mom settle there.

It's ridiculous
that I'm Mexican!

It's ridiculous that you insist

that my name has
a written accent over the á .

If you only would'’ve had
the decency of telling me more

and not just focus on that,

with your bizarre jokes,
honestly.

[engine shuts off]

What if I was to say
to my brother:

"Nico, I started a letter
for you, but...

"I--I don'’t know what to say.
I'm so torn.

How will I approach you
when I get to Mexico City?"

I don'’t know. I feel that
that'’s a little too dramatic.

Why don't you just say,

"Hey, this is your brother
Sebastian from Oklahoma?"

Okay, that won'’t work.

Uh, you could just say,
"What'’s up jerk?"

[chuckles]
Sure, I could say that.

[Paige] Or I don'’t know,
just show up at his work.

What is it?
Joint Visions?

[Sebastian]
Yeah, that'’s where he works.

That was the only thing
I was able to find online.

I mean, for sure.

Wow, and now you're
on your way to Mexico City.

Does your dad know?

[Sebastian] No, I went
to his house this morning,

and of course, he was there
gloomy and mean, as usual.

Uh, can you please just look up

the address
for Joint Visions again?

Yeah, sure, um,
I actually have it right here.

It'’s on Avenida Juarez
and Revilla...?

How do you say that?
Um, Revillagigedo?

[cars passing]

[Nico speaking Spanish]

I'’ve got to get back to Puebla.

I get so paranoid here
in el D.F.

or Mexico City, or CDMX,

or whatever
they want to call it next.

[bus rumbling, horn honks]

[♪]

In theRear Window,
Jefferies also spied

on his front neighbors,
or did he?

In Hitchcock'’s film,
Jefferies was a photographer

whose life was paused
because of a broken leg.

I'’m more like some
disturbed voyeur,

digging into people'’s lives

thanks to lack of sleep
and a mental block.

Or in order to turn
my back on my own,

let'’s say...
[speaking Spanish]

That'’s what my favorite writer,
Leila Guerriero,

would call the things
inside these four walls:

a chair, a table,
a kitchen [inside a closet,]

a bed, and random piles
of books and clothes.

Oh, and the cat of course,

but she is far
from a private misery.

[laughs]

What if I sorted out
all my clothes

in my kitchen drawers
like Slavoj Zizek?

He says it adds
something special to his life.

The Hitchcockian characters
across the street

seem to live normal lives.

I hope no one sees me
and decides to say hello.

I can'’t hold
a normal conversation.

[♪]

Here I am again at 5:00
in the morning,

not sleeping and not
writing a single paragraph.

What if I wrote about that
building and the people in it?

I could start with that kid,
staring into space,

looking for something
in the stratosphere.

That could be the start
of a beautiful story.

[door creaks softly]

[birds squawking,
people chattering]

[indistinct dialogue]

[Nico] We walk, we move,
but we never leave home.

This watch is the same one
I asked my mum

to buy for me in London,
a long time ago.

[♪]

[no audible dialogue]

[Nico] Leila Guerreiro
quotes Rafael Gumucio

fromAgainst Flaubert.

For Flaubert, he says,

Madame Bovary is a vengeance
against her father,

against her uncles, against
the entire city of Ruan,

against books, against nuns,
against Republicans--

almost against everything.

The argument is unsettling
to me, but also intriguing,

like so many others
from Gumucio,

or Leila, or Caparrós,
or Villoro,

or Cadena Martínez,
who I read obsessively.

[♪]

[phone buzzes,
car horns blaring]

Ugh.
[chuckles]

[car horns blaring]

[indistinct chatter]

[♪]

[Nico] Today was a good day.

I wasn'’t able
to start the story

of the kid staring into space,

but something supernatural
did happen.

I finally spoke to Alberto
Cadena Martínez,

all the way from Colombia.

[speaking Spanish]

He called me out though.

Hm, "me retó,"
as Monica would say.

Good thing too, since
I have such writer's block.

[indistinct chatter]

Alberto says the key
to writing a good story

is a particular
point of view,

which doesn'’t just magically
emerge out of research,

out of what I'’ve been doing.

I do fuck all.

I walk around not even
knowing what to look for.

But they say that can be an
advantage for good writers too.

The truth is,
my effort at this story

has become like a tornado
sweeping me along.

[man speaking in Spanish]

[Nico] Like in Oklahoma.

[indistinct chatter continues]

[♪]

[Nico speaking Spanish]

[wind chimes twinkling]

You'’re right, Alberto.

I'’ve got to put an end
to this neurosis

and think--think calmly.

[train screeching]

[♪]

[bell ringing]

[ringing grows louder]

[car engine sputtering softly]

[♪]

[leaves rustling]

[door creaks]

[light piano music]

[glasses clinking]

- Good day.
- [Leam] Yeah.

The usual?

Yeah.

Salud.

Oh, are you from Mexico?

Do I look Mexican?

He says that all the time.

[Syd] Why?

He used to live in Mexico
for the longest time.

That'’s why he comes in here.

The music.

[piano continues playing]

[Lloyd] Hey, Leam.

How goes it?

I liked it better when Luis
played the old Mexican tunes.

Get him to play
the old Mexican songs.

I'’m with you on that.
I'’ll take your recommendation.

[glasses clanking]

[dramatic music building]

[loud pop, children screaming]

[♪]

[Fiona] What inhabits
this burning red earth?

Is it abundance,
or the vastness of a desert

plagued by churches,
oil, and highways

that leads to an obscure border

like a blind, mad animal

that crashes into a wall
it cannot see?

The wind blows,
and we are far away,

and every border reminds us

that we cross it only when
we're searching for something;

otherwise, every cage looks
brilliantly tidy and clean,

like this one,
where I find myself.

[♪]

[♪]

[cars passing]

[engine revs]

[indistinct chatter]

[messages popping]

[waitress] Are you hanging out
or drinking or eating or...?

I'll be back
in a minute for you.

[phone vibrating]

[Sebastian] Nico.

I'’ve been unable
to write you a normal letter.

So...

Here's what I really wanna say.

When I found out that you,
Rose, and mom were gone,

all I could do was imagine
where you were.

I spent hours looking
in those geography magazines

that mom brought home
from England.

I was looking
for you guys in them.

[♪]

Remember that feeling we had

that nothing would happen to us
as long as dad was around?

Well, now hewas
the only one around,

but I was six, and he had
shut off completely.

I don'’t know anything about you
or if mom is in Mexico.

But at least I know
where you are.

I'’ll find you guys.

I can'’t wait to get down there,
especially now.

Have you seen
what'’s happening in the US?

Maybe you can get me
a job down there.

I also know that Latin American
cities are gigantic,

one of them being Mexico City,
where I'm headed to find you.

[♪]

[wind whistling]

Instead, Ava, our Oklahoma town
is very, let'’s say, lonely.

In Ava, you don'’t see
many people walking,

except those loners that
traverse endless pathways

seemingly going from one fast
food joint to a dollar store.

And while shiny cars drive
through town anonymously,

other lonely people hit
one bar after the other.

I might sound dramatic,
but this is what I see.

One of those people
that hits those bars

during the day
is our father, Leam.

[♪]

[♪]

[news jingle]

[crackling]

[newscaster] ...Drug lord
is now in U.S. custody

facing several charges...

[newscaster 2 speaking Spanish]

[crackling]

[newscaster continues
speaking Spanish]

[♪]

[siren wailing]

[phone ringing]

[phone vibrating]

[phone ringing]

[phone ringing]

[voicemail]
Your call has been forwarded--

[indistinct chatter]

[indistinct chatter continues]

[siren wailing]

[wailing continues distantly]

[♪]

[newscaster] ...The storm
initiated the conformation

of a tornado
that most likely will pass

near the city of Moore
in the State of Oklahoma.

Residents are already
taking the necessary...

[dramatic music building]

[wind chimes twinkling]

[♪]

[bird chirping]

[trees rustling]

[door creaks]

[♪]

[Fiona] On the other side,
everything sparkles,

bathed in a light
that blinds our eyes.

The lines curve,
the roads become irregular,

nature is wild and alive.

Like a party
with no written end.

Like an impossible
and mysterious world.

[bus passing]

[Nico] Why did I decide to write

about the world now,
of all times,

right at the start of the
Post-Truth age--

hm--like Villoro said
in his talk on Tuesday.

Puebla belongs to another time.

[operatic singing]

It's like a Parisian
city-scape,

frozen in time,

the cover of Benjamin'’s
Arcade Project,

but in Mexico.

[indistinct chatter]

There'’s no one
like Walter Benjamin.

He'’s unique, original,
inexhaustible.

And reading him does me good.

I didn'’t know that the Parisian
arcades he describes

are so much
like the ones here in Puebla.

But these are tangled, baroque.

Mexico is not the capital
of the world

like Paris was
in the nineteenth century.

[man shouting indistinctly]

But why would anyone
want to live

in the center of the world,
anyway?

[♪]

[keys clacking]

[indistinct chatter]

[speaking Spanish]

[Nico] I'’d love to be
like Benjamin, hm.

To see the world
through these urban surfaces.

Here in Puebla,
everything is exposed

and concealed
at the same time.

And here, in Mexico City,
even more.

In this giant city,
there'’s no time for fiction.

Anyone who'’s not wide-awake
gets lost, forever.

[speaking Spanish]

[woman speaking Spanish]

[♪]

[Fiona] My children, myself,

are little more
than seeds adrift.

My children, swept away
by the daily winds,

ask themselves questions whose
meaning they've yet to know.

One day, they'’ll stop, and all
the travelers you now see,

passing other travelers
on foreign soil,

at bus stations,
in the streets,

will be the very proof that
what hurls us into the world

is what also forces us
to endure, to return

to the origin of all things

when my seeds were newly
bursting with light,

like a blameless
and brilliant gift.

[man on P.A. speaking Spanish]

[Sebastian and worker
speaking Spanish]

[man on P.A. speaking Spanish]

[insects chirping]

[door creaks]

[light piano music playing]

[Leam] You bribed him to play
my Mexican music, huh?

- [clears throat] Leam.
- [Leam laughs]

So, are you a Brit?

Last time, you asked me
if I was from Mexico.

[Leam] Yeah.

No, I'’m from Oklahoma.

What I told you was last summer
I went to England, for school.

Were you in London?

Uh, yeah, for about a month.

I was, like, drinking
a little too much.

Um, why?
Why do you ask?

[glass clanks]

[Lloyd] Don'’t ask.

It'’s just a question.
Why, Leam?

What?

[dramatic music building]

[piano continues]

[bird chirping]

[Lloyd] In the late sixties...

your dad became totally involved
in the movement of the day.

And after the Tlatelolco
Massacre in Mexico...

he kept going back,
returning to cover

the student protests
against the government.

Since he was persecuted here...

[door creaks]

He decided to stay there,
in Mexico.

- He was about your age.
- I don'’t know--

[Lloyd] I know you don'’t know
much about all this.

Everything your dad, Leam,

struggled for in the sixties
and seventies.

[bird chirping]

Everything he wrote
as a journalist was brilliant.

[♪]

And look at the world
today, Sebastian.

It'’s been real hard for me
to witness your dad'’s downfall,

when so much is happening...

[door creaks]

That needs to be analyzed,

contested,

with intelligence.

Look!

[Sebastian chuckles]
What's this catnip stuff?

[Lloyd] Ah, the catnip stuff.

[chuckles]
It may sound funny.

Even catnip was an issue.

But you know,
after he met your mom,

your mother,

their activism became stronger.

She was even tougher.

Fiona...incredible woman.

A short time after you
were born in Mexico,

you and your brother, Nico,

she was kidnapped.

[Sebastian] How--how come my dad
never told me about this?

Why are you telling me this?

[door creaks]

'Cause there has been
too much silence.

We'’ve been quiet for too long.

When y'’all came back
from Mexico in...

'98. That'’s when Mom
was pregnant with Rose.

In nine--yeah,
that'’d be right.

The nineties were difficult.
Very difficult in Mexico.

They had no money,

but at least they had a house
here--here in Oklahoma.

And when they came back,

everything seemed so great.

[door creaks]

You know, your brother, Nico...

he loved that house,

more so than you.

Your dad...

[♪]

Seems him and little Nico
were like--like this, you know?

They were always playing
at writing stories

for the newspapers
up in the attic.

Remember?

[Sebastian] No.

But your parents would not stop,

and vicious people
are everywhere.

Leam, Fiona...

did not have a chance
in Mexico, or even here.

Why didn'’t she take me?

Why did she only
take Rose and Nico?

She did take Nico, Sebastian...

but she didn'’t take Rose.

They came back from Mexico

because of that house.

That house!

[tense music]

What!?

- [pop]
- [screaming]

[sirens wailing]

[♪]

[rain pattering]

[newscaster] It happened
on 321 Walnut Rd., in Ava.

The victim has been identified
as 2-year old Rose Gaertner.

Around 6 a.m.,
police responded to a call

of people screaming
outside the Gaertner's home.

When officers got to the scene,

they found Rose lying
on the sidewalk.

She died at the scene.

...identified as 2-year
old Rose Gaertner...

[overlapping] Screaming
outside--she died at the scene.

The girl's parents have stated

they were the target
of the assault.

They fear the lack
of evidence--

the lack of evidence
in the crime...

[♪]

[bells clanging]

[choral singing]

[rain pattering]

[dramatic music building]

[door creaks]

[birds twittering]

[choral singing continues]

[no audible dialogue]

[woman on radio
speaking Spanish]

[man on radio speaking Spanish]

[man 2 on radio
speaking Spanish]

[woman on radio
speaking Spanish]

[man on radio speaking Spanish]

[♪]

[bell chimes]

[indistinct shouting]

[indistinct chatter]

[man laughs]

[♪]

[bells chiming ominously]

[indistinct chatter continues]

[train rumbling, creaking]

[♪]

[train chirps]

[train chirps]

[indistinct chatter continues]

[choral singing resumes]

[brakes screech]

[♪]

[brakes screech]

[train chirps]

[trains squeals, hisses]

[indistinct chatter continues]

[bell chiming]

[♪]

[horn blares]

[driver speaking Spanish]

[horn blares]

[Fernando laughs]

[car horn chirps]

[both speaking Spanish]

[♪]

[Nico speaking Spanish]

[cars passing]

[both speaking Spanish]

[camera shutter clicking]

[♪]

[train rumbling]

[Paige] Hello?

Hey.

I got kicked out
of Joint Visions.

[Paige] Okay.

[laughs] Yeah.

But I know what I'm gonna do.
I know the city.

I'’ve been walking around.
I'’ve been watching him.

He hangs out with this group
that looks like

a modern fucking version of the
Jack Kerouac-Neil Cassidy gang.

They do some kind
of activism or something.

I think he saw me.

- Hello?
- [Paige] It'’s fine, Sebastian.

Just do whatever
you have to do.

I'’ll talk to you soon, okay?

[phone ringing]

Hey, guys.
This is Paige.

Leave a message,
and I'’ll get back

with you as soon as I can.

Hey guys, this is Paige.

Leave a message and I'’ll get
back with you as soon as I--

It'’s fine, Sebastian, just do
whatever you have to do.

I'’ll talk to you soon, okay?

Hey, guys.
This is Paige.

Leave a message and I'’ll get
back with you as soon as I--

It'’s fine, Sebastian; just do
whatever you have to do.

♪ Just borders ♪

[crowd chattering]

♪ Hold you apart

♪ And I feel uneasiness ♪

♪ In my heart

♪ And it hurts

♪ Hurts to breathe

♪ When you don'’t know
What it'’ll be ♪

♪ It was such
A long way to here ♪

♪ So close yet so far

♪ Raised by a different light

♪ Lived a different life

♪ Long years burned a scar

♪ Will it ever feel alright?

♪ And I feel uneasiness

♪ And I feel uneasiness...

[crowd chattering loudly]

[no audible dialogue]

[tense music]

This is awkward.

Read this.

[Sebastian] ...instead, Ava,
our Oklahoma town,

is very, let'’s say, lonely.

In Ava, you don'’t see
many people walking,

except those loners that
traverse endless pathways

seemingly going
from one fast food...

...one of those people
that hits those bars

during the day
is our father, Leam.

I really can'’t do this
right now, okay?

Maybe later.

Okay.

[♪]

[Sebastian] I think, though,
that, after all,

my friends might be right
when they say

that the US is
a better place than Mexico

with all that violence,
and narcos, and...

but again,
what consolation is that?

Ava is a sad little town
that cannot grow

because of the backwardness
of its people.

My own backwardness
has kept me here.

[bird screeches]

And Dad'’s contempt towards me

is no more than
his unbearable pain.

I am just there
to pick up the pieces.

[bird screeches]

[ominous wailing]

[rain pattering]

[thunder rumbles]

[Fiona] In the end, our faces
are reflected in a mirror

covered in a dust that
the rain cannot cleanse.

A mirror like the one I see
in this tidy and clean cell.

[rain pattering,
thunder rumbling]

[choral singing resumes]

[♪]

[choral singing re-enters]

[floorboards creaking]

[♪]

[keys clacking]

[♪]

[birds chirping]

[train bell ringing,
rumbles]

[brakes screeching]

[birds chirping]

[dog barks]

[birds continue chirping]

[leaves rustling]

[wind chimes twinkling]

[♪]

[rhythmic pulsing]

[leaves rustling]

[door creaks]

[♪]

[dog barking]

[sentimental music
begins softly]

[bird cawing,
wind chimes twinkling]

[rhythmic pulsing]

[♪]

[♪]

[birds chirping,
wind chimes twinkling]

[pilot] Welcome to skylines,
flight 382

to London Heathrow today.

Welcome on board.
Lovely to have you with us.

As we leave
towards the east this...

[Nico] Dear, brother...

Now, crossing the Atlantic,

I can finally answer you,

at least in my head,

but with a sense
that you can hear me.

Images cloud my mind

while that little Oklahoma
town, Ava, appears in flashes.

The reds and oranges
are what I see the most.

[Leam laughs]

[Leam laughs]

[pilot] So we anticipate
pushing back

a few minutes
ahead of schedule.

The cabin crew will demonstrate
the safety equipment procedures

of this aircraft,
and we ask you to...

[Nico] Now, crossing the
Atlantic, I think of the wall

that's someday meant to divide
Mexico and the US.

What a--hm--deplorable idea,

but of course, not surprising.

I'’m glad you came
to Mexico, Sebastián.

I'’m glad you saw a little of
the place where you were born,

although you came
to save me, I know.

Smart move.

I'’m glad you didn't just
send me a text, dear brother.

And that your
girlfriend understood,

that she didn't give up.

[♪]

Violence can disrupt your life
without even touching you,

like the spinning
winds of a tornado.

While Monica heard
horror stories

about the brutality
of Pinochet in her attic,

in another attic,
I invented stories

with my father and Lloyd.

Remember Lloyd?"

[Lloyd] They were always
playing at writing stories

for the newspapers
up in the attic.

Remember?

[Nico] It was like a game,
not knowing

that something devastating
was coming our way.

Seeing you has
made me think again

about the Tlatelolco Massacre,

which our father reported,

and the Oklahoma City bombing,

which is somehow part
of our own story.

[newscaster] ... Believe that
a 1,200-pound car-bomb is what

ripped through the nine-story
building shortly after 9:00 this morning.

- Many of the victims...
- [Nico] And years later,

even dad'’s favorite bar
in Ava burned down.

- Hm.
[newscaster] On Tuesday of last week,

a lightning strike
and the fire that followed...

...gutted Leam Gaertner'’s
"happy place."

Fire grew fast
in this beloved bar of Ava with very little time to...

[♪]

[Nico] And thinking
about our mother,

put away in London
for as long as I can remember,

I think of what Tomás
Eloy Martínez once said:

'When we read that there were
one hundred thousand victims

'in a tsunami in Bangladesh,

'the data shocks us,
but it does not move us.

'If we read, instead,
the tragedy of a woman

'who has been left alone
in the world after a tsunami

'and we followed step-by-step
the history of her losses,

'we'’d know everything there is
to know about that tsunami

'and all there is to know
about chance

'and about involuntary
and sudden misfortunes.'

Your road trip brought all
of this to me, dear brother.

It reminded me of the good
life we had in Oklahoma.

[keys clacking]

But there are millions
of other stories out there.

Where did the 21st century
go wrong?

The planet is full
of dictators, liars, weapons,

and yet we cling
to the illusion

that we are moving forward.

That'’s why I read
Walter Benjamin.

I don'’t believe
in that progress either,

especially when I walk,
looking around obsessively,

trying to understand...
something.

That'’s what drove
Mónica away, I'’m sure.

Maybe as I try to write,

a nuclear bomb is
crossing the Atlantic.

Maybe, right now, as I walk,

the world is turning
into a mushroom cloud

in which we all burn like
delicate autumn leaves,

slowly growing dark

and turning into fragile,
gray, absurd ashes.

[♪]

[wind whistling]

[♪]

[♪]