All language subtitles for Illusions (2022).Retail

"However, if your soul were bold enough,

Under illusion you could see her life,

And all its accidents before you voiced

By figures like animated bodies."

(Pierre Corneille, Illusion Comic)

Two young married couples,

unable to find the strength
for a sincere conversation

about all the accumulated problems
and anxieties,

decide to go to an appointment
with a family psychotherapist.

Both of these couples were connected
by many years of friendship

and spending time together.

They were really friends so tightly
that they did a lot of things together.

Therefore, they also decided
to go to a psychotherapist together.

This story is about mindfulness

and deep understanding
of human relationships.

This is a story about them.

ILLUSIONS

Hello.

It is hard for me to talk about this

openly.

So, I will tell you a story
about one married couple.

These were wonderful human beings.

They lived together for fifty-two years.

Fifty-two years!

Always together.

Their life was complete.

A fulfilling life!

Extraordinarily beautiful love.

Her name was Sandra, his was Denny.

When Denny turned eighty-two,
he became very ill,

lay down in bed and didn't get up.

And one day he sensed
that right now he was about to die.

He called to his wife Sandra.

She sat down next to the bed.

Denny took her by the hand
and started speaking to her.

He managed to tell her
everything he wanted to say.

Everything he needed to say.

He said:

Sandra,

I want to thank you.

I want to thank you.

I am thankful to you
for the life I have lived.

Thanks to you, I've lived
a wonderful, amazing, fulfilling life.

All of this is thanks to you.

Sandra wanted to answer,
but Denny asked her to be silent.

It was important for him to say all this.

Sandra understood that Denny was dying,

she sat next to him and didn't say a word.

She looked at him, looked to see him
for the last time.

To remember him as he was, alive.

I am thankful to you
for teaching me about love.

Because of you, I found out what love is,

what the power of love is.

That love is not a word,
not romance, but labor.

Love is labor,

it is accepting responsibility.

Sandra, thanks to you, I know
what it is to be responsible.

That's the most important thing there is –
to be responsible for something.

And to be thankful.

To be thankful and to be responsible –

there's the whole formula for life.

Responsibility and thankfulness.

Thank you, Sandra,
thank you for your love.

Your love taught me that life

is devoting every instant of attention
to someone dear.

Loving you, I learned how to be attentive.

I learned how to see others.

Love teaches how to see others,
and not only oneself.

I loved you and understood
that I must live up to that love,

I must live up to you, to your love,

and I changed.

I was compelled to change.

That is such a blessing, such a miracle--
when someone makes you change!

You came into this world as one being
and you leave it as another.

That means you really lived,

truly lived.

And the only thing that can teach us
to live that way is love.

Nothing is capable of recovering us
from the abyss of egocentricity

except love.

Love forced me to hold up my head
and look at myself objectively,

love forced me to conquer my laziness,
my cowardice, my fear.

Everything I have gained in this life,
I did all of it thanks to you, Sandra.

I found I was loved by a woman like you

and I wanted to be the man
who was worth your love,

and I undertook certain exploits and deeds
for the sake of your love.

And everything I have managed to do
for other people, for the world,

all of this I did fueled by the energy
of my love for you.

And this love itself, at some point,
became greater than just love for a woman,

it suddenly went beyond its own boundaries
and flung itself upon the whole world.

Loving you, I learned how to love others.

Sandra,

the love you have given to me
all these years,

fifty-two years, Sandra!

This love gave meaning
not only to my life,

but to the lives of those around us.

Our children, our friends.

I saw how my friends looked at us
and how they wanted to be like us,

how they wanted to love like us.

And many of them changed their lives
for that reason.

Your love, Sandra,
it's like a beam of light,

it illuminates everything around it.

Everything that touches your love
becomes something else,

it changes, transforms, blossoms.

Thank you, Sandra,
for your right-mindedness,

for never compromising.

Thank you for the severe words
you sometimes addressed me with,

thank you for the unpleasant things
you said to my face,

thank you for your grittiness.

Sometimes I was offended,
sometimes I didn't like what I heard,

but I am especially thankful for this.

I was so angry at times,

so hurt by your words,

but you told me the truth,
and that is precisely what saved me

from the depths of greed and self-love
to which people are so often driven.

You were honest,

you spoke from your heart,

and thanks to that fact
I was able to avoid countless misfortunes.

Sandra, all my life
you have saved me from trouble.

You were my true guide and teacher.

I am so thankful to you
for the life you have given me.

For our beautiful children, you raised.

It is thanks to you
they are such sensitive, kind people.

And most of all, Sandra,

most of all, I want to thank you

for telling me about love,

for teaching me how to love.

For explaining to me what love is.

At our very first meeting
you said to me – remember?

you said that true love
can only be mutual love.

That true love is when two people
love each other,

and if only one person loves,
there's no love to begin with.

I remembered these words my whole life.

And every second of my life

I remembered

that love is two,

and that means I am responsible
for your love.

This empowered me
to escape many temptations.

It empowered me to never cheat on you
with other women.

Of course it's no secret
that men look at other women,

and I am no exception.

But when I was on the verge
of cheating on you

I suddenly remembered your words,
that love is mutual,

and then I understood that my actions
would betray not only my love,

but yours as well.

I made a conscious effort
and avoided being unfaithful.

I am so happy that we have lived
these fifty-two years together

and never once been unfaithful,

and that we have nothing to hide
from each other.

And that I am dying in such a lovely way,

such a beautiful death.

Thank you for letting me die this way.

It is such a joy, at the end of life,

to be able to pronounce the words
I've pronounced.

This is it what is meant
by a fulfilling life,

a life in love, in creation,

and a dignified exit from this world.

Thank you, my dearest, for all of this,

for all of my life and my beautiful death.

Forgive me for dying first,

and leaving you with no one
to tell everything I've told you.

Of course it's selfish of me, Sandra,
to die first,

but alas there's nothing I can do –

nature is stronger than our desires.

I would like to be with you
in the moment of your death,

to sit like this close to you
and look at you.

I'm sure this is very hard,

I know that dying is easier

than living through the death
of a loved one.

I'm sorry that you should go through this
with me.

But when you die, Sandra,

remember these words of mine
before your own death,

and know

that I will doubtless be somewhere nearby.

My love will be with you.

I don't believe in life after death.

I know that today my journey ends
and that there is no continuation beyond.

But I believe and I know, Sandra,

that love does not die,

it lives on eternally,

even after we've gone,
our love will go on living.

I can't explain this
from a scientific point of view

but I feel this is true.

I don't believe in mysticism,

I'm speaking about a simple,
very simple thing.

Love is a very simple thing
reached by only a few.

I lived through life to find

that love exists.

Love is a great power.

Love conquers death.

I am not afraid to die. I love you.

And he dies.

Pause.

And Sandra sits close by
and looks at her husband.

And now he's gone.

And she stands and leaves the room.

Pause.

And after the death of her husband,
Sandra lived only another year,

and then became ill, stayed in bed

and also felt one day
that she was about to die.

So then she asked her husband's friend
to come visit her.

His name was Albert.

Albert and Denny were best friends,

they had been friends since school days.

They were inseparable all their lives.

Albert was best man
at Denny and Sandra's wedding.

And when Albert entered the room,

Sandra sensed more strongly
than she had felt that whole previous year

that Denny was gone.

She said:

Sit down Albert,

I want to tell you a few words
before I die today

and I'm going to die today, I know this.

And thank goodness it's so.

Albert wanted to answer,
but Sandra asked him to stay quiet.

It was very important for her
to say all this.

We've known each other, Albert,
for over fifty years already,

isn't that right?

You are my husband's friend.

You were the best man at our wedding.

And you know, I want to tell you
that the very day when I first saw you

was the day I met Denny.

I came to meet Denny,
and there you were.

From that very minute

and to this very day,

all these years,

these fifty-three years and four months,

all this time I have loved
only you, Albert.

As soon as I saw you then, next to Denny,

I knew right away that here was the man
I was going to love forever.

But you were married,
and I saw that you loved your wife.

And so I married Denny,

and lived with him all these years,

and you were always close by,

and always, every second of my life
I loved you and love you now,

and only here, as I die,
I wish to tell you about this.

But that's not all, Albert.

I want to thank you for the joy
that I've experienced,

having been granted
this rare opportunity to love.

Thanks to my love for you, I learned

what it means to wish for nothing
for yourself,

but only to give.

My love for you taught me

that giving is much more important
than demanding something for yourself.

I learned that loving is giving,

that true love makes no demands,

holds no claims.

All these years,
these fifty-some odd years,

I watched you,

and my heart was filled with this light
and beautiful feeling.

Of course I suffered
from not being able to be close to you.

I always wanted to be with you,
I wanted intimacy,

I thought about this,
I thought about it almost constantly.

But in thinking about you
I was in fact with you,

I was with my love for you.

And this love, my love for you
was carried on to the rest of the world,

to other people.

My husband Denny felt this love.

I never deceived him

because within me was love,
and part of this love I gave to him.

I gave him part of my love for you.

I was very honest with him,
because I loved

not him, it's true,

but within me was love
and he took that love and was happy.

When I was young I suffered terribly

because I was sure that true love
could only be mutual love,

but then I realized

that love has no rules or formulas.

I realized that love is just love,

it exists however
and with whomever it wants.

Love is this force

that exceeds all boundaries
and destroys all barriers.

I loved you with no hope for reciprocity,

and from this my love
became even stronger.

And I became stronger.

And I grew fearless.

I grew bold.

I was bold.

Loving with no hope for reciprocity

taught me to be responsible
for my feelings,

taught me to look after my heart.

I learned that love is something

difficult to obtain,

but very easy to lose.

And I began to look after my love.

Thank you for never letting me
get close to you.

You never looked at me as a woman,

but always as the wife
of your best friend.

I don't know that I'd be able
to hold myself back,

if I were given a chance.

But I truly respect and adore
your lovely wife Margaret.

She is an extraordinary, exquisite woman
and you love her and that is beautiful.

And I am happy that the man I love
more than life itself

is capable of love.

I know that you are capable of love,
and that is so beautiful.

I wish you and Margaret happiness.

I hope you will go on living together.

Thank you, for meeting me
on my life's journey,

for being here,

for existing.

For the possibility of living in love.

For the opportunity to learn
that love is when you only give

and demand nothing in return.

Thank you for coming, for hearing me out,

for letting me leave this life

in such a beautiful and perfect way.

I am happy to have a death like this.

I was lucky that Denny died first,
that I could see him off.

He died very beautifully.

And now I also die with a feeling
I've lived for a purpose.

I lived through life
to learn that love exists.

Love is a great power.

Love conquers death.

I love you.

And then she said:

You don't have to say anything, Albert.

I ask that you not answer me now.

Now, just go.

Goodbye. We won't see each other again.

Say hello to Margaret. Be happy.

Goodbye.

That's it. A little story.

Alright then.

Now I want to tell you
about a second married couple.

They also lived together
for over fifty years.

His name was Albert, hers was Margaret.

They were both about eighty years old,
they were precisely the same age.

And one day Albert came home
from a walk somewhere,

sat in a chair in the middle of the room,
called to his wife

and asked her to come and sit before him
in the wicker armchair.

He said:

I want to talk to you, Margaret,
about something important.

You and I haven't talked
about what's important

for a long time, have we?

You and I, as far as I know,
have never talked

about what's important, –
answered Margaret.

She was a woman
with a very fine sense of humor.

That sure is funny, – said Albert.

Then he went on.

I want to talk to you, Margaret.

It turns out I've loved another woman.

It's difficult for me to say this to you,

but we've lived fifty-four years together
and I've never intentionally deceived you.

I respect you very much,
you are the mother of my children...

And the grandmother
of your grandchildren, –

Margaret chimed in.

She was a woman
with a fine sense of humor.

Yes, yes, that's quite funny, –

responded Albert and then continued –

So. I must tell you
the very unpleasant truth.

Margaret, today I've learned what love is.

What true love is,
the love described in literature,

the love that everyone dreams about
when they're young and nobody finds,

and then everyone settles
with whatever's on hand.

We don't find true love
and we decide that it doesn't exist,

that it's all literary fantasy,

and then we marry whoever's nearby,
whoever's real,

whoever's convenient,

and then we live with him or with her
our whole lives,

thinking that this is what humankind
is capable of,

that this is all the love there can be,

but in fact love
is something else entirely.

Love is something completely different.

Love exists, Margaret.

It's just you and I weren't destined
to experience it together,

and we've lived together fifty-four years,

thinking that what we feel
for each other is love,

but that wasn't it,
what we felt wasn't love.

I came to realize this just today,

I came to know this
only at the end of my life,

but I'm happy that at least now,
it finally happened to me.

I am happy, Margaret.

But I'm also terribly sorry for you.

I don't want to seem ungrateful,

you gave me the best years of your life.

I mean, let's be honest,
you gave me your whole life,

and I'm immeasurably thankful to you.

You are the closest person to me,
you always have been and always will be,

but I never loved you, Margaret,

and you never loved me, believe me,
we never loved each other

with the love that everyone
dreams about in youth

and that almost never actually happens
with anybody.

But you see, it happened to me.
I'm happy, Margaret!

I have loved,
for the first time in my life.

But I love another woman. I'm sorry.

And having said all this,
Albert fell silent.

And here, of course, a short pause
fell over the conversation.

Not too long.

And then Margaret said:

Albert, you're an old fart, –

that's all Margaret said at first.

Because she was a woman
with a fine sense of humor.

Yes, she was a woman
with a fine sense of humor.

And this, despite the fact
that she had cancer.

When she turned sixty,
Margaret was diagnosed with breast cancer,

she underwent surgery,
had one breast removed, and she...

Just joking.

She didn't have cancer,
and her breast was just fine.

In fact, she was almost never sick at all
with anything.

She was a very healthy woman
with a fine sense of humor.

So...

when Albert had delivered
his monologue about love,

Margaret listened and thought to herself:

Jesus,

he's just an old fart,

why should I respond to this,
who knows what he's talking about.

He just wants to make me angry,
that's all.

Why should I react
to all to his nonsense about love?

We're both practically dead already,

why should we go on
discussing this or that

and getting our panties all in a bunch?

It's a bit too late for that.

I'd better just keep quiet

and not give this old bozo any occasion
to fancy himself a youngblooded lover.

That's what she thought.

But, for some reason,

this Albert's big elaborate speech on love
had an effect on Margaret.

And although she was a smart woman

with a fine sense of humor,

intelligence and humor

failed her,

and though she had decided

she wasn't going to answer this old bozo,

immediately after thinking
that she wouldn't answer,

she went along and answered.

She said:

I only want to tell you, Albert,

that you shouldn't make judgements
about others by yourself.

If in the course of your life

you weren't destined to know what love is,

that in no way means

that life worked out the same way
for others.

By "others" you mean to say "you"? –
said Albert.

Yes,

I mean to say me, – answered Margaret.

You mean you want to say
that you happened to experience true love,

is that what you're saying?

Yes,

that's precisely what I'm saying.

Then, Albert went up to Margaret,

knelt down before her,
covered his face with his hands,

sat in this pose for a few minutes,

and then uncovered his face,
looked at Margaret and said:

I'm very sorry Margaret.

But, you only think that you love me.

Or rather, of course, you love me,
just as I love you, but...

...I'm talking
about an entirely different love,

that you and I never felt.

Why do you speak for others again, Albert?

You didn't feel it,
others might have felt it, Albert

No, Margaret, "others", that is, you,

never felt it,

because true love can only be mutual love,

and I literally found this out just today.

Love can only be mutual.

If one person loves another,
but the other doesn't love the first,

then it isn't love,

and the love the first person feels
isn't true love,

he just thinks he loves.

I found out about this
literally just today,

through my own experience.

I didn't want to tell you the details,

but since we've gotten in so deep already,
I'll tell you.

And again, forgive me

for bringing you such pain.

Forgiven, – said Margaret.

She was a woman
with a fine sense of humor.

That's funny, –

said Albert and continued, –

today I was at Sandra's.

She feels very weak
and it seems she's dying.

And so there I was with her
and she told me

that it turns out her whole life,
all these years,

she loved me.

You see?

Not Denny, but me!

And it's true, why would she lie
just before death?

I could tell just from the way she said it
that she wasn't lying.

Her whole life she loved me and only me,

but she couldn't confess
her feelings to me,

she couldn't betray Denny,
couldn't wreck his life.

And she said that earlier she thought
that true love could only be mutual love,

but then, loving me,
she realized that wasn't true,

after all, her love for me was unrequited.

And just as she was telling me this,
I sat there listening to her,

and my whole life
connected with Sandra and Denny

flashed before my eyes.

I remembered Sandra
when she was young,

I remembered how we visited them
every Saturday,

remembered all our holidays together,

our trips to the sea.

I remembered Sandra,
what a gorgeous woman she was,

her gait,

her lovely hands, hips,

her personality, her modesty,
intelligence.

I recalled how one day
she burst into tears

when Denny fried a snail on the grill
along with the vegetables,

remember?

That was on your birthday!

And for some reason
I just remembered all of this.

I remembered that I had always liked her,
liked her, but nothing more.

And all of a sudden that thought
struck me, "liked her, but nothing more".

And I suddenly realized that here I was,

standing before this old woman in bed,

here I stood, and all of a sudden
I realized

I love her.

Furthermore I suddenly realized
that I'd always loved her,

only that love had always been
somewhere deep down,

so deep that it was impossible for me
to make out.

Do you understand,
this is very hard for me to explain.

I didn't acquire this love just now,

this love, it turns out,
has always been with me.

I've just suddenly learned

that I always loved Sandra,

and that it was true love,
because it was mutual love,

and we were made for each other,

only for some reason
I was unaware of all this,

I was in some kind of strange nescience.

I don't know why it's happened this way,

probably it was just a matter of time.

The ripe fruit falls by itself.

A cruel game of fate,
or coincidence, I don't know.

But the most important thing
I want to tell you

is that love didn't come to me today,

it was with me always,

but it awoke in me only today.

And you see, Sandra was mistaken

when she said her love
was unrequited love.

She simply didn't know,
as I didn't know, that I love her.

Her love was requited love,
because I always loved her.

True love cannot be unrequited love.

Therefore, I'm so sorry, Margaret,

you and I never loved one another.

not only did I not love you,

you didn't love me either.

Then there was another pause,

and then Margaret said:

I knew that.

And I also feel precisely the same way.

I didn't want to tell you about this
at the end of our lives,

I thought, what difference
could it make now

what happened before,

now, at the end of our lives,
we're both eighty-four years old,

and I thought, what happened before

has passed and will never come back,
but it seems it's come back.

You brought it back yourself, Albert.

And so, I'll tell you

what I never would have told you
if you hadn't started this yourself.

True love can only be mutual love,
this I know.

All these years,

me and Denny were lovers.

We met almost every week
and sometimes travelled together.

Remember my business trips
when I was younger?

You didn't even notice
that they sometimes coincided

with various departures
of your friend Denny.

There were times

we wanted to confess everything to you
and change our lives entirely.

But we didn't know that Sandra loved you,

and you yourself didn't know
that you loved Sandra.

After all we appreciated you both so much,

and didn't want to destroy our friendship.

And we didn't want to inflict pain

for the sake of our own happiness alone.

We decided to sacrifice our love
to the circumstances.

We loved each other, we suffered,
but all the same we were happy.

When Denny died,

I couldn't even come to see him,
to say goodbye.

I couldn't be there

because I couldn't bear it
if Sandra had found out.

Denny and I had agreed ahead of time
that when one of us died,

the other wouldn't come.

And here, Margaret couldn't bear it
anymore and began to cry.

Albert sat there silent, still.
He was probably in a state of shock.

He didn't say anything,
and didn't even try to calm his wife.

And there they sat, Margaret bawling,

Albert looking off
somewhere in front of him.

Two old people,
strangely living out their lives.

Finally, Margaret calmed down and said:

Albert,

If you had realized earlier,
that you love Sandra,

and if you had told me about it,

maybe we could've changed our lives
and been happy.

But that didn't happen.

I guess that's how it was meant to be.

Love can only be mutual,
I agree with you Albert,

so...

...forgive me for this cruel sincerity.

Pause.

- I want to tell you about Denny.
- Yes!

Sorry to interrupt,

I just wanted to say,
this is a really important,

I wanted to say

that Sandra and Denny
were brother and sister.

We forgot to tell about that.

They were brother and sister,
only from different mothers.

They were brother and sister
by the same father,

Denny was the child
of their father's first marriage,

he grew up his mother,

and he and Sandra met
when Denny was thirty

and Sandra was twenty-seven.

And right away they fell in love
with each other and got married.

Naturally, their entire family
was against the marriage,

especially their father,
but they didn't listen to anybody,

they got married and cut off all relations
with everyone, even with their father.

Their father denounced them

and never once went to see them
till the day he died.

So, yeah. That's all I wanted to say.

Sorry for interrupting. Continue.

Yes and that too was a joke,
they weren't brother and sister.

Sandra were not brother and sister.
That was a joke.

Yeah.

So then...

Now I'm going to tell you a story
about Denny.

One night when Denny was eight years old,
he couldn't fall asleep,

and suddenly he saw a strange light
through the window.

Little Denny walked up to the window

and saw a huge silver disk
hanging in the sky.

He saw a giant alien ship.

A huge flying saucer.

It shone with this blindingly magnificent
silver light,

the most radiant and beautiful light
in the universe.

The silver light was so wonderful,

it was as though it gave off
a kind of fragrance.

The disk wasn't made of metal
or of any other familiar material.

It had an oblate, crescent shape,
like a new moon.

It was as if the crescent moon
were straightened out into a flat disk.

The whole disk consisted of this silver,
or rather, lunar light.

It was so beautiful, this moonlight,

it was as though the whole universe
had wanted for Denny to feel

a soft, pleasant, even sweet chill
go tingling along his spine.

And here, a pleasant and sweet chill
indeed went tingling along Denny's spine.

And this eight-year-old boy
stood before the window

and looked spellbound
at the resplendent spaceship.

He was simply stunned
by this magical light,

this most beautiful, most wonderful light
in the whole universe.

He stood and stared
at the miraculous sight.

And then he thought

perhaps he should run
and wake up his parents.

But for some reason
he suddenly froze, scared.

He was scared that when he went
to wake up his parents,

the spaceship could disappear,
and then all this beauty that he'd seen

would in one second be turned
into the fantasies of a little boy.

And here Denny realized

that no matter who he told
about what he had seen,

nobody would ever believe him.

Nobody.

And that what he saw right now,
the whole of this truest of miracles,

this greatest, most wondrous light
in the universe,

would be turned
into plain old makebelieve.

And then Denny understood
the nightmare unfolding here on the Earth.

He understood that because people
often lie to each other

and precisely for this reason,

because people
constantly lie to each other,

no one believes anyone anymore.

And this simple thought
came into his mind.

And Denny,

gazing into this, most beautiful light
in the universe,

gazing at the flying saucer
hanging in the sky,

quietly swore

he would never,

ever lie to anyone.

Never.

No matter what happened.

And Denny kept his oath.
To his death he never told a lie.

Of course, if nobody asked,
he could not tell about it,

as with the flying saucer,

which he never revealed to anyone.

And only one person in the world
knew this story.

That person was Sandra.

Because Denny loved her very much.

Now I'll tell you a story
about Denny and Margaret.

Denny and Margaret met each other
a year before Denny met Sandra,

because Margaret became the wife
of Denny's best friend Albert.

And when Denny and Margaret
met each other,

they immediately struck up
a very intimate friendly relationship.

Albert was surprised how quickly his wife
got along with his friend.

They became perfect pals.

A year later, Denny met Sandra.

He brought a photograph of Sandra
to Margaret, and asked her

what she thought of his new girlfriend.

To which Margaret replied
that she liked the girl very much,

that Denny had good taste.

And then, when Denny decided
to propose to Sandra,

he again came to Margaret and asked her

what she thought about the fact that Denny

wanted to marry Sandra?

And Margaret answered
that it was a great idea,

that she congratulates Denny

and wishes him and his future wife
happiness.

Denny and Margaret were real friends.

Albert was amazed by the friendship
between his wife and Denny.

I don't understand, Denny, said Albert,

who is your best friend, me or Margaret?

Are you jealous? – asked Denny.

Very.

I want to be the only one in your life, –
joked Albert.

Sorry, but I've got Sandra too,

so that makes at least three of you, –
joked Denny.

One day, when Denny and Margaret
were about forty years old,

they sat on the patio
at Denny and Sandra's house.

They were alone.

Sandra and Albert
were somewhere in the garden.

Denny and Margaret
sat across from each other at the table.

Denny rocked his leg back and forth
under the table.

And suddenly, his leg
brushed against Margaret's leg.

Denny and Margaret brushed
against one anothers' legs

under the table.

And then Margaret unexpectedly said:

Tell me, Denny, what do you think:
could you and I sleep together?

Or let me put it differently,
what do you think:

could you and I be lovers?

Only please, answer me seriously,
because I'm not joking.

Denny looked at Margaret
very, very strangely.

Very, very strangely.

He put his hand on hers and he said:

No, Margaret,

we can't be lovers,

because I love my wife very much,

and I value the friendship
of your husband.

As for what Margaret said
to her husband Albert

about how she and Denny were lovers,
she was just joking.

After all we know that Margaret
was a woman

with a very fine sense of humor.

Now I'd like to tell you
about one evening.

One evening, Denny and Sandra
sat in the living room of their home

with the lights turned off,

they sat in complete darkness

and looked through the window
at the stars.

It was winter, the children had left town

to be with Denny's mother
for Christmas vacation.

Denny and Sandra were alone.

They sat and looked at the stars.

It was a clear, starry night.

And suddenly Denny felt something.

Something extraordinary,

something exalted and divine.

He suddenly felt very, very good,
sitting there close to wife,

looking at the stars.

And so he all of a sudden
decided to tell Sandra

about the episode from his childhood
when he saw an alien spaceship.

And Denny told Sandra the story
of how he saw a glowing spaceship

and about the silvery light
radiated by the ship

and even about how he decided
he would never lie again to anyone.

And then at the end of his story,
Denny kind of bashfully asked Sandra,

Well, you believe me, right?

And there, at that very moment,
Sandra realized

that life is composed
of these tiny, multicolored fragments.

That life holds nothing whole,

just these paltry, tattered pieces,

that there's no single plot,
just a multitude of episodes,

that there's nothing central,
just trivialities and details.

And that all these details
can't seem to converge

into something complete,
into something consummate.

It's probably impossible
to explain all this with words,

but Sandra suddenly felt

that the world she lived in
was missing something complete,

something unified,

some one thing
that could connect all of this.

She looked at Denny and she thought,

My goodness...

this is absolutely no place for aliens.

And now I want to tell you about Albert.

Albert was a very good man.

And right now you'll understand why.

One night Albert woke up because outside,

someone was throwing pebbles
at his window.

Margaret was sleeping soundly
and didn't hear anything.

Albert got up, went to the window

no, there was no flying saucer

and the pebbles were not being thrown
by aliens.

Albert looked out the window
and saw his friend Denny outside.

Denny gestured for Albert to come down.

Albert got dressed and went outside.

This conversation took place
in August, 1974.

Denny and Albert
were then about thirty-five years old.

What's happened, Denny? –
asked Albert, bewildered.

Albert, I have to tell you
something very important.

It concerns all of us.

I can't sleep.

I have to tell you
everything I've got on my mind.

Hear me out.

Albert said, – Well of course Denny,

let's go onto the patio.

We can put on the kettle
and have some tea or coffee.

And they went onto the patio

and there on that patio
Denny delivered his ardent soliloquy.

He said:

Albert, you and I are friends.
You're the closest friend I have.

There's no one in my life
closer to me than you, except Sandra.

I want to confess something to you.

But please, hear me out to the end
and don't interrupt.

It's very important
that you don't interrupt

and that you hear me out,
I won't speak long.

Now listen.

You know that I love my wife Sandra
very much.

And it's true, it's absolutely so.

I love her more than anyone in the world,

and to be honest, I love her much more
than my children.

Sandra is not only my wife,
she is also my friend.

And I love her not only as the mother
of my children,

not only as my friend,
but also as a beautiful woman.

You wouldn't disagree with the fact
that Sandra is quite beautiful, would you?

Albert wanted to give his affirmation,
but Denny wouldn't let him get a word in,

he went on.

Sandra is a very beautiful woman.

And all these years I've admired her.

I've never been satiated by her beauty,
I've never gotten used to her beauty.

Every day I look at her

and I fall in love with her
again and again like a little boy.

I love Sandra, I'm happy living with her.

We're very happy in bed together.

I am content, content with everything.
Sandra is my ideal.

I want to live with her to my death.

I never cheated on her
and I don't plan on doing so.

My dream is to live with her into old age

and as I lie dying,
to take her by the hand

and tell her the most important,
truthful, most touching words

that I can find in my heart

Why do you think you'll die first? –
Albert managed to fit in.

I don't think that, it's what I dream of.

I dream not of dying first
but of having the chance

at the end of my life to tell Sandra
the most important words I have for her.

But that's not the main thing.

Albert, once again I want to repeat
that I love Sandra

with the truest, most genuine,
most beautiful love on earth,

but...

...I nearly die from sexual desire
every time I see your wife Margaret.

I dream about sex with your wife
almost every night.

There's nothing I can do.
It's against my will.

When I see Margaret
everything inside me turns upside-down.

My head starts spinning, my teeth chatter.

It was like that
from the moment we first met,

but then I decided I could handle it,

and indeed shortly after that
Sandra appeared in my life

and for a time I stopped thinking
about your wife.

But not too long ago
everything came back again,

especially now, in the summer,

when women walk around
in those damn summer dresses.

Albert, I don't know what this is.

But it's not just appeal.

You understand I go to bed
thinking about Margaret,

I dream about her at night,
I wake up and I think of her,

and even, sorry,
but even when I make love to Sandra,

I try not to, but I think about Margaret.

I'm absolutely going crazy.

I can't listen to her voice,
I can't be near her.

I can't see her hands,

I can't see what a wonderful,
kind, intelligent person she is.

What an amazing sense of humor she has.

When she's around,
you see the whole world differently.

My god, what a joy it is

that this world is blessed
with a woman like your wife Margaret.

Thanks to her presence, I believe
that the world is not without meaning,

the world has meaning

and that meaning is given to us
by Margaret,

by her smile, her way of being.

One glance of hers fills this world
with meaning and beauty.

If the world has Margaret,
the world has beauty,

and if the world has beauty,
there's a reason to live.

All these thoughts
have been riding my brain, my friend.

And I admit I'm very, very tired of them.

I don't know what all this is.
Albert, tell me, what is this?

It's love, buddy, –
replied Albert, calmly.

And Denny fell on the floor,
curled up into a ball

and cried like a baby.

I love my wife Sandra, –
bleated Denny through tears,

I know what love is,
love can only be mutual love.

You love Margaret, –
ever calmly replied Albert.

No, I don't want to, I don't want to,
it's not true, not true, –

Denny howled on.

And then when Denny
had regained control of himself,

sat down and sipped some hot tea,

Albert once again, very, very calmly said:

You love Margaret, Denny.

What you've described, the feelings
and sensations you've experienced,

all of these are nothing other
than the most sure-fire symptoms of love.

You love Margaret, buddy,
there's no doubt about it.

But I'm telling you,
I love and want to love Sandra.

Here, for example, if right now
I had to choose who I'd live with,

sorry for saying so, Albert...

It's alright, buddy, it's alright, –
replied Albert.

But it's just an example, –
continued Denny, –

If I had to choose right now

whether to be with Sandra
or with Margaret,

I swear to you, without thinking
even for a second,

I would choose Sandra.

I don't want to live with Margaret.

I'm happy with everything
living with Sandra.

Everything, you understand,
absolutely everything.

And I don't think Margaret
is prettier or sexier than Sandra.

I love Sandra, and not Margaret.

But why I can't even take a step

without thinking only of your wife,
I don't know.

I know, – said Albert, –

and you know too, buddy.

Let's not deceive ourselves,

after all, as far as I know,

I can't remember a single instance
of you lying as long as I've known you.

-What, then, is love? –
very naively demanded Denny.

It's precisely that same feeling
you experience in presence of my wife, –

responded Albert, wisely.

This scene was reminiscent
of a dialogue between father and son.

Denny resembled the young boy,

who had come to his wise old dad
to ask what love is.

And Albert was just like the wise old dad,

who knows that a time comes
when love knocks on a young man's heart,

and now was the moment when,
according to the old family tradition,

the father must tell his son
of the elements of love.

But then how do you define
the feeling I feel for my wife Sandra?

It looks to me

like you just get along well together,
Denny, that's all.

Here, Margaret appeared on the veranda.

She had been awakened
by Denny's heartwrenching sobs,

but of course Margaret didn't hear
what he had been saying.

Which is precisely why she came out
onto the patio to find out

what two men could possibly be up to
at two-thirty in the morning.

Good evening, – said Margaret, –

sorry to barge
into your conversation but...

At that moment, Denny's face
turned white as a porcelain plate.

Denny rose from his chair,
fumbled at the air with his hands,

staggered and fell on the floor.

He had lost consciousness.

Albert was a very good man.

He of course never said a word to Margaret
about his conversation with Denny.

Which of course meant
he had to lie to Margaret,

he had to tell her that Denny
had had a severe nervous breakdown,

connected with the fact
he had just turned thirty-five,

and that Denny was at the beginning
of a mid-life crisis,

and that such crises
are particularly painful for men.

Albert lied to Margaret,

because he wasn't the sort of man
like Denny, who never lied

Albert was an ordinary, very good man.

Immediately following this event

Denny and Sandra left on vacation
for three months.

They went to Australia,

because Denny had wanted very much
to visit another continent.

And when they returned in three months,

Albert and Denny went on being friends
as though nothing had ever happened.

Everything returned
to its right old place.

And both of these beautiful couples
went on living and aging together.

Here's a very funny story

about how one day
Albert got high on cannabis.

One day, when Albert
was already forty-eight years old,

he decided to try smoking marijuana.

It so happened that a student of his
offered him a joint.

I'm not going to get
into all the details here,

I'm not going to talk
about what kind of "weed" this was,

where the student got it from

or why he decided to offer marijuana
to his professor.

Actually, I think I'll go ahead
and tell about that.

This student offered marijuana
to his professor

because at a lecture Albert was giving,

the theme turned to the use of hemp
in the manufacture of nautical rope.

It turns out a very large quantity
of nautical rope

is made precisely of hemp.

And here, talking about nautical rope,
Albert let on

that he had never in fact tried
smoking marijuana.

In short, a student of his
jokingly offered

to get his professor high.

And Albert, much to the surprise
of his student, agreed.

And not only did he agree.
He took the joint and smoked it.

And when he had smoked the joint,
in literally a few minutes' time,

he could suddenly feel that the world,
the world surrounding him...

well, how can I say this?

Basically, the world...

In short, it got soft.

Albert stretched out his hands
in front of him and touched the world.

The world was soft.

Albert stood with his hands
stretched out in front him

and suddenly, he started sobbing.

Do you need help, mister professor?! –
asked the student, terrified.

No, – answered Albert through tears, –

I'm fine,

it's just I realized something
about the composition of the world.

And what is it you've realized
about the composition of the world? –

inquired the student,
hardly able to keep from laughing.

It was unbearably funny for him
to see his professor high.

It's soft, –

pronounced Albert in a strange voice.

I always thought it was solid,

but it's very soft,

and that's just unbelievable
and very, very sad.

Sad because in our regular state of mind,
we don't notice this,

and we live in a solid world.

And Albert touched the world
with his hands again and again,

bewildered by its softness.

And all this went on

for as long as the marijuana
held its effect.

And then when the drug's effect faded,
and the world once again became solid,

Albert wiped the tears from his eyes,

thanked the student
for the services rendered, and went home.

And as Albert went homeward,

the world around him
solidified and solidified,

such that when Albert
reached the porch of his home,

the world had become solid as a rock.

Albert walked into his house,
saw Margaret, and said:

Honey, I'm solid as an iron hammer.

As usual, Margaret had to try
especially hard

to smile at her husband's joke,

although on the other hand,
she had long since gotten used to the fact

that Albert had
a very peculiar sense of humor.

And now I'll tell you a story
about the disappearance of Margaret.

One day Albert came home very late,
at eleven-thirty in the evening.

He went in to the house
and after some time found

that his wife wasn't there.

He then called his friend Denny
and asked if Margaret was over.

But Denny answered that Margaret
was not over,

and that he and Sandra
were already in bed.

Albert then called a few friends
and acquaintances

who, it seemed to him,
Margaret might have gone to visit,

but she wasn't there.

Then Albert called
all his distant acquaintances,

who Margaret
doubtfully would've gone to see,

but Albert called them anyway,
just to make sure she wasn't there.

And then he called Margaret's parents,
who lived in another city,

and startled them to death by asking them
if by any chance Margaret was there.

She was, of course, not there,

but now Margaret's parents, too,
had joined in on the telephonic search.

The last thing Albert did
was to dial up morgues and hospitals,

and this took up
a considerable amount of time.

I just want to remind you

that back then
there were no mobile phones,

and Albert was calling from a land-line

and had to wait each time
for a connection.

And then, when Albert had called
the last hospital he knew of,

where he was told that no Margaret
of any kind had checked in that day,

and Albert in exhaustion
hung up the phone,

at that very moment

he heard Margaret's voice
coming from the large wardrobe

that stood in their room.

I'm here, Albert,

in the wardrobe,

but you have to do something important
to get me out of here.

Albert turned pale
and almost lost consciousness.

Pulling himself together,
he threw himself at the wardrobe

and tried to open it,
but the wardrobe was locked.

How did you get in there, Margaret?! –
shouted Albert, panicking.

I'm in the wardrobe –

replied Margaret in a solemn,
sacramental voice.

Her tone frightened Albert

because from that tone it seemed obvious

that Margaret had lost her mind.

You must retrieve me from here.

From this world.

And to do so, you must sing.

You must sing a magical incantation.

How did you get in there, Margaret? –
cried Albert, –

who locked you in there?!

I locked myself.

I want you to play with me,
I'm asking you to play a game.

Please, Albert, don't be angry,
just play with me.

It's a game,

you have to think of this as a game.

You have to get me out of this wardrobe,

and to get me out of this wardrobe,

you have to sing a magical song.

Make up some magical song and sing it.

This of course was followed
by a long argument.

Albert yelled at Margaret,
tried to break the wardrobe,

but it was an old oak wardrobe,
breaking it was simply impossible,

furthermore Albert was beside himself
and couldn't focus.

Of course, in the end,
Margaret got out of the wardrobe

without any magical songs.

She opened the latch from the inside

and spread the doors open to either side.

Albert looked at Margaret very carefully,

trying to see if she had gone crazy

or what the hell was going on here,
god damn it, at one-thirty in the morning?

And Margaret

sat down on the floor and suddenly said:

Don't be mad.

I haven't gone crazy.

I just wanted to play, you know?

Sometimes in life a person
has these moments,

we'll call them "moments of strangeness",

when he just really wants to play.

You mean that was a game? –

asked Albert, gazing at Margaret

with a look of pain and anguish.

It's moments of strangeness, –

answered Margaret undismayed,

and you know, I sat in that wardrobe
for several hours,

and never once had to pee.

A curious thing, a woman's body,
isn't it? –

joked Margaret,

and smiled, looking at Albert.

Or, at any rate, tried to smile.

I'd like to tell you the story
about Denny and the round stone.

When Denny and Sandra were in Australia,

one day as they were hiking
Denny saw a large round stone,

lying next to the road.

It was an ordinary round stone
the size of a horse's head.

Denny and Sandra continued along the path
past the stone,

but Denny suddenly stopped.

He felt a sort of strong affinity
for that stone.

It seemed to him that between him
and that stone

there existed
a kind of special connection.

And Denny went back to the stone
and sat down on it.

He sat on the stone and closed his eyes

And there he sat, on this stone,
with his eyes closed for some time,

until he heard Sandra's voice.

Are you okay, Denny? – asked Sandra.

Yes, – answered Denny,
his eyes still closed, –

I just have to sit on this stone
for a little while,

sorry Sandra, do you think
you could wait for me a bit?

Well of course, Denny, I'll wait for you.

If for whatever reason you feel
you need to sit here on this stone,

then I, of course, will be happy
to wait for you as long as necessary.

And Sandra started walking
around Denny in circles,

and Denny went on sitting and sitting
on the stone with his eyes closed.

About an hour after Denny
had seated himself

on the stone by the road,

Sandra couldn't hold it any longer
and said:

Of course I understand Denny,

it's probably absolutely necessary for you
to sit on this stone,

I have no doubt that you've got
a very compelling reason for doing so,

but what about me?

I've been walking around you in circles
for an hour now, what am I supposed to do?

Search for your place in the world, –
answered Denny.

Do what again now? – repeated Sandra.

Search for your place in the world, –
replied Denny once more,

everyone must have his own place
in the world.

The tree grows in its place,

the flower buds in its place,

a bird flies on its own trajectory.

Each human being, too,
must find his own place in the world.

That's a very interesting theory, dear, –
said Sandra, -

And what about you, have you already found
your place in the world?

Yes, – replied Denny, – I did find it,

to be honest I found it quite recently,

just about a half-hour ago.

This is my place. I'm sitting on it.

This is my place in the world.

Sandra looked at Denny.

Denny closed his eyes again
and lowered his head.

Then Sandra turned her back to him
and headed the other way.

In the direction they'd come from.

She went back to the town
where they were staying.

It was called North Darwin.

Sandra went back to the hotel,
lay down in bed,

covered her face and cried.

She couldn't find her place.

She couldn't find a proper place
to live in.

She couldn't find a place to live.

I want to tell you the story
about Sandra and the pink stripe.

One day Denny and Sandra
went to Australia.

And there they walked about
on dusty roads, sat on round stones

and marveled at the magnificent landscape.

It happened that during one of their hikes

Sandra caught sight of a long pink stripe
on the horizon in the distance.

This long pink stripe
was like a young girl's ribbon,

stretched along the tops of the hills.

Look Denny, – said Sandra, –

do you see that pink line on the horizon?

Do you think that's the refracted rays
of the setting sun,

or the reflection of something pink
from the surface of the hills?

There was a short pause.

Denny looked carefully
in the direction of the horizon.

He gazed at the pink line
with the look of an expert

calculating the cost of a painting
at an auction.

After some time, Denny finally said:

You know, Sandra,

I don't think you ought to dramatize
your life so much.

Yes, life is sad,

yes, at times it lacks meaning,

lacks any permanence whatsoever,

but in the end you have me,

and I have you.

And that itself is a giant stroke of luck,
that you and I have each other.

Sandra looked at Denny and smiled.

And they walked on silently,
both in their own thoughts.

Sandra thought of the pink stripe
on the horizon.

And then she said:

You know, Denny,

every person ought to have something

they can look at in a moment of despair
and calm themselves.

And that pink line on the horizon
might just be that sort of thing.

A pink line on the horizon
is hardly a thing, is it Sandra? –

retorted Denny skeptically.

Yes, it's a thing, –

answered Sandra.

And Sandra and Denny continued
along the road toward the hills,

and they reached the top of a hill
and saw before them a great, level plain.

The sun hung in the distance
along the horizon,

and from its center
pink rays spread out in all directions.

There's the real source of the pink stripe
you were asking about.

It's the sunset, –

said Denny.

And Sandra burst into tears.

And she sobbed for forty minutes,
and Denny didn't know how to help her.

He was despondent himself.

His heart was wrenched
to see Sandra in such pain,

but he didn't know what he ought to do.

Denny sat on the ground
with his head in his hands

and began staring straight ahead
in the direction of the horizon.

There the pink line of the sunset
was drawn across the plain.

Denny sat and looked at the pink line.

And all of a sudden, he calmed down.

He felt fine.

He looked back and saw that Sandra
had also composed herself.

She sat behind him, behind his back

and she too gazed
at the pink line on the horizon,

and she, too, was just fine.

Well, the time has now come
to tell you how all this came to an end.

By the phrase "all this came to an end"
we mean that absolutely everything ended.

Yes.

So now I'll tell you how Sandra died.

She died something like this.

After Margaret explained
to her husband Albert

that she had been his best friend
Denny's lover her whole life,

and you remember
that in fact this wasn't true,

it was just a joke, because Margaret
was a woman with...

Right, so.

The news that Denny and Margaret
allegedly loved each other

had a very bizarre effect on Albert.

He felt absolutely no remorse

at the fact that the woman
he had lived with for fifty-two years

apparently had cheated on him
his whole life.

To the contrary,

he quite rejoiced
at Margaret's announcement

because now he was absolutely,
irreversibly convinced

that love could only be mutual love,
requited love.

And then he decided to go to Sandra's
and tell her before her death

that she was mistaken to think
that love could be unrequited love,

that he, Albert, had always loved her

and that meant that their love was mutual.

And that true love
could only be mutual love.

He wanted Sandra to die
with these thoughts,

because this was all
tremendously important.

And he took off to see her
and found her still alive,

and told her that he loved her

and had always loved her

and as an additional example

he even told her about Denny and Margaret,

so that before she died

Sandra found out

that Denny had been unfaithful to her
his whole life,

and that apparently all the touching words
he had said before his death

were simple lies.

And that Denny apparently wasn't
the sort of person who never lies,

and that his story about aliens
was also nothing more than fiction.

And with these thoughts, Sandra died.

And now I'll tell you how Margaret died.

We all recall that Albert managed
to visit Sandra before her death

and tell her many interesting things.

And Albert took leave of Sandra

with the feeling of someone
who's paid his dues,

and he headed home.

Approaching his house,

he decided he'd sit for a little while
on the patio.

And he walked onto the patio,

and sat there for some time
in the wicker armchair.

And sitting there in the wicker armchair
on the patio, he remembered

how almost fifty years ago
right here on this very patio,

Denny told him of his love for Margaret.

And Albert pondered

how, as it turned out,
Denny had deceived him,

it turned out that Denny
was his wife's lover.

Albert of course still didn't know
that Margaret was joking,

he thought Denny and Margaret
had had an affair.

But in spite of this Albert
wasn't angry with Denny.

He loved and respected Denny very deeply.

He even considered

how hard it must have been
for Denny and Margaret to hide their love,

he imagined how much
they must have suffered

because of all this.

Albert was a very, very good man.

He sat in the wicker armchair on the patio

and remembered those words
Denny had uttered here fifty years ago.

He remembered how Denny spoke of Margaret.

And he remembered Margaret.

And he remembered
what a beautiful woman she was.

And he remembered her youth,

remembered her gestures, her gait.

Her lips.

Her breath.

He remembered her body, her figure,
remembered all her lines and curves.

He remembered her tenderness.

Her intelligence.

Margaret was a very kind,
intelligent, subtle person.

When she walked into the room,

it was as though everything and everyone
were blessed by her beauty.

Margaret was a very simple person.

She did not dilly-dally,
she spoke quite plainly

and looked in the eyes of the person
she was speaking to.

True, she could be sharp-tongued

and sometimes liked to make fun,

but all this could be forgiven

because within Margaret
was love for other people.

And Albert thought,

all in all he was lucky
to have a wife like that,

and in the end it was a wonderful thing
they were together,

and how delightful it would be now
to come home, embrace Margaret,

press his cheek to hers...

and suddenly Albert jumped up,

a new thought simply struck him
in the head.

He suddenly thought,

"My God, what have I done, I love her!"

And here Albert realized

that all of today's love for Sandra,

all of this was just a late-arrived flood
of romance

sprung from the heart of an aging fool,

that he had lived fifty-four years
with Margaret,

had been happy with her

that this indeed was love,

that he had always loved
and still loved Margaret.

The mother of his children.

A wonderful human being.
An extraordinary woman.

This was love!

What else?!

I love her! – cried Albert.

He suddenly saw that Sandra's words

had just aroused a slumbering
romantic sensitivity within him,

Sandra's words had awakened his youth.

It was just youth
that had suddenly cried out

within the heart of an octogenarian.

Of course, he had never loved Sandra,

even when he had so admired her

for crying over the fried snail.

He had never loved Sandra,

only admired her at times,

but he had always loved only Margaret.

And this was the absolute truth!

What am I doing, damn old fart?! –
yelled Albert, –

I love you, Margaret!

And he ran into the house
as fast as he could to find Margaret

and fall before her on his knees
and confess everything.

But here, for a moment, he stopped.

Another thought popped into his mind

and halted him right there:

So this means love...

...can be unrequited love?

After all Margaret loved Denny?

But I love her, –
cried out Albert suddenly, –

but I love her! – cried Albert, –

I love her! – yelled Albert, –

to hell with all concepts,

I love you, Margaret! –

Albert cried at the top of his lungs
and ran up to the house.

I love you, Margaret, –

Albert called out again from the threshold
as he entered the house.

The door to the bedroom was closed.

A piece of paper was fastened to the door
with push-pins,

and on the paper was written:

"Dear,

before you enter this room, know

that I've hung myself there.

Margaret."

Albert opened the door to the room.

Margaret hung there from a rope.

She was already dead.

Now I'll tell you what happened next.

Here's what happened.

Albert called up the police
and the paramedics.

He didn't try to remove Margaret
from the noose,

thinking that would be better
for the police,

for the investigation
into the cause of death.

But really, to be honest,
he was just afraid to touch Margaret.

As for the investigation
into the cause of death,

such causes are too profound

for a detective or doctor to understand.

The official cause of death,
as will be announced shortly, was suicide.

On the table lay Margaret's suicide note.

Albert took the note,
went outside onto the patio,

sat in the wicker chair, opened the note,
and began reading:

"Dear Albert.

I decided to do this

because I have entirely ceased
to understand

how everything functions here.

I don't understand
how everything fits together,

what follows what.

I can't see the grounds
by which everything moves forward,

develops.

I can't find order,
I can't find permanence.

There's got to be
some kind of permanence, right, Albert?

There has got to be
at least some kind of permanence

in this enormous,
shifting universe, Albert?

There's got to be some kind of permanence
in this shifting universe, Albert...?

And from here on, the whole page
was inscribed with this single phrase.

Apparently while Albert
had been at Sandra's

telling her about his love for her

and about how Margaret and Denny
had been lovers,

all this time, Margaret sat at the table
and wrote:

"There has got to be some permanence
in this shifting universe?"

The whole page, on both sides,
was inscribed with this one phrase.

And at the end of the page
were a few more lines,

here they are:

"Love can be unrequited love,

because I, for my whole life,
loved you Albert.

I love you.

You're not to blame for my death.

The only thing to blame for my death
is this damned impermanence.

Forgive me.

Goodbye."

And now we're left to find out
how Albert died.

After the deaths of Sandra and Margaret,
Albert lived another ten years.

He died when he was ninety-four years old.

Here's how he died.

Late one evening Albert sat on the patio
in his wicker chair.

It was already dark
and Albert gazed up at the stars.

From old age his vision was poor,

and the great starry sky merged for him
into a single flickering light-blue haze.

And there Albert sat,
looking at the flickering light-blue haze,

and suddenly he remembered
Margaret's last words,

about how there's got to be
some permanence in this shifting universe?

Albert uttered this phrase aloud,

as though addressing his question
to the universe itself,

unfurled before him
in its hazy, flickering light blue form.

There's got to be some kind of permanence
in this shifting universe? –

Albert asked the universe.

And at that very second,
his heart stopped.

That's how Albert died.

And all this came to an end.

Goodbye.

A FILM BY NIKOLAI GOSTIUKHIN

BASED ON THE PLAY BY IVAN VYRYPAEV

PRODUCED BY OLEG SHARDIN
AND NIKOLAI GOSTIUKHIN