Original subtitles

Here are the trees.

Can you make little leaves for me?

Here are the leaves with their--

trees with their leaves so green.

And here are the apples that hide between.

When the wind blows...

That's a lot of wind!

The apples fall.

Boom, boom, boom, boom.

I'm not finished!

It is my turn.

I found a pair of dentures unattached in the foyer.

I'm not finished sending my email!

Your half hour is over.

You'll have to wait your turn.

Your half hour is over!

It is my turn.

I'm not finished!

I'm not finished.

It is my turn.

Bald man, I'm not finished!

Your half hour is over!

Bald man, I'm not finished sending my email!

You'll have to wait your turn, bald man!

You shut up.

You shut the fuck up.

I'm not finished!

10:05 am.

An unusually pale female patron

accused a man with a suitcase of hitting her.

A nearby patron would not corroborate this claim.

Unusually pale female patron then stole a pair of dentures.

I'll take these.

The owner of these dentures

is currently unknown.

We ought to be paid twice as much

as some of those idiots in administration who have no idea.

Serving patrons who've lost their minds,

who cry all over you one minute

and then bite your head off the next.

Not to mention those who piss their pants

and can't seem to find their way to a shower.

Ever heard of soap?

The stench.

Four more hours to go.

I think I hear a toilet overflowing.

Fainting man is out front.

Yeah, I need you to come. He's back.

Are you okay?

All is well, all is well.

Please don't call 911.

They will charge me for the ambulance.

All is well.

Ah... never mind, it's fine. Okay, bye.

The following is a list of patrons

who frequent the Allan Gardens branch of the public library.

Fainting Man, who is a new immigrant

and has no health coverage.

Su, my co-worker, who I would describe as triangular.

Natalie, who seeks out a quiet corner to study on Tuesdays.

Unusually pale female patron,

who always walks on the diagonal.

Tom, who used to be a classical pianist.

Irene Frenkle, the branch head, and my boss.

Suitcase Man, who often bows, bending abruptly at the waist.

Beautiful Man, who is beautiful.

Piano Girl and her mom...

who also plays the piano.

John B., our most regular patron,

who suffers from dementia.

Desperate Man, whose older brother often leaves him

at our branch for the day.

And my father.

Sit down.

You can sit down if you want.

How you been doing?

My father owned the same suitcase

as Suitcase Man.

He allowed me to press the metal buttons,

and if I wasn't quick enough,

the tabs, springing back, struck me on the knuckles,

causing me to cry out.

Sometimes my father placed his hand kindly on my head,

pleased to see that I was learning my lesson.

4:40 pm.

A sticky mess was found at a table

in the back of the library.

A number of books were arranged in an upright position

on the table.

They appear to have served as a screen.

The books, soiled by what looked like common semen.

No actions were taken.

Hello. Good morning.

Hmm.

"Laugh, laugh, get on with your laughter at my expense.

"You don't think I'm capable of protecting my own daughter,

"do you? You'll see pretty--"

I just found this in the garbage can.

Who throws books away...? In a library?

Okay, I'm on break.

"You'll see pretty soon "what I'm capable of.

"I am Rigoletto, and I will not be doing any more suffering."

Weird.

When I was 11,

my father took me to the opera .

He chose Rigoletto

and explained that it was about a man who was cursed.

I sat on the edge of my chair and allowed the music to seduce me.

Excuse me, miss?

May I help you?

-I don't believe this is the sort of guy

women find attractive.

I mean...

it's more what he thinks that...

that's what turns women on, right?

It's...

it's more their ideas, what they go for.

Uh, yeah.

-Right? -Absolutely, yes.

Hmm.

Su cuts out glossy ads for men's underwear ,

close-up shots of scantily-concealed genitals.

- She pins these to the bulletin board by the fridge. Hello, boys.

Irene has tried for years

to get her to take it down.

Yeah...

To no avail.

Alright, see you then.

Hey, Janko!

Hi.

Sorry to interrupt.

You're very good.

Thank you.

Um...

Do you often play opera music?

No.

Um, we found the music on the piano,

so my daughter wanted to try it.

You play it extremely well.

Thank you very much.

Sorry.

I'm off.

Alright. Have a good one.

Once, my father disappeared for three days .

I listened while my mother telephoned the police.

I asked her if he'd been murdered.

She assured me that he was alive and wandering somewhere,

ducking in and out of used bookstores.

"How did she know?" I asked.

She told me that once before I was born,

he'd vanished and had spent his days

frequenting used bookstores.

But he'd promised her he would never disappear again.

Miriam...

What good is a promise? I asked.

Health card, please.

Name, Miriam Gordon.

Date of birth, February 9th, 1985.

Yeah.

Father's name?

Pardon?

Father's name, please?

Why?

Edward?

No.

That's why.

We don't want to confuse your records

with another Miriam Gordon's records.

Oh. That makes sense.

Father's name?

Morris.

Married?

Yes, to my mother.

I mean, are you married?

-No.

Never married?

-No. -Always single?

Yes.

Next of kin?

We need an emergency contact person.

Irene.

416-534-2732.

Last name?

Frenkle.

With an "e."

Is this her cell?

I mean, I don't have it.

Okay, well, we'll need to contact this person

outside of work. Any... other family?

Friends?

Any medications you're on?

No meds.

Suicidal ideation? Any history of mental illness?

Okay. What brings you in today?

I'm fine, actually. I feel fine.

I am Janko.

And you?

Miriam.

I've seen you at the library.

I work there.

Yes, I know.

You like opera?

Excuse me?

Opera? Yes, I guess so.

I'm reading Kekec.

Kekec.

Hm, Kekec.

It is a Slovenian novel for children.

Is it good?

It is wonderful.

What's it about?

A story of a little boy named Kekec

who overcomes fear.

Hm.

Oh.

I love opera.

Hm.

It's a bit dark.

Not really.

I drive a cab.

Oh.

Also a painter.

Hm.

I am not an artist.

I can show you my work sometime, if you like.

Are you hungry?

Are these your paintings?

Yes.

I turn them around...

so they won't frighten anyone.

-Are your paintings frightening?

These are my most recent.

Can... can I see?

Yeah.

Can I see another?

Hmm.

Hmm.

I finished this one a week ago.

How do you create the... the effect?

First I dig into the wood

to create different layers.

And with a torch I burn the wood, the surface,

all of it.

And then I paint.

I studied fresco restoration.

-Hmm.

In Slovenia?

Poland.

Ah.

Would you like a cup of tea?

I think I will go.

-Oh. -Yeah.

Is this okay?

Yeah.

Oh...

8:55 am .

The light switches on the control panel are stiff.

Note to call maintenance to fix the problem.

I was in the piano room.

-Yes, I signed you in.

There's a new piano in the piano room.

-Yes.

-I need to stay here tonight.

As you know, the library closes at 8:30,

and we all have to leave.

-I wanted to return the beer cans inside for cash.

The piano was replaced,

and, moving forward,

please do not put beer cans inside the piano.

-What would happen if you were to force me to go out?

I... I don't know. The library closes at 8:30.

Ah, yes.

No.

Don't leave cans...

in the piano.

No.

Thank you.

Okay, well, if you can't... if you won't let me stay,

then will you at least take me to the nearest police station

when the library closes, uh, tonight?

I can't-- I can't do that.

I can't do that.

Your brother usually comes and gets you at 5.

-Fine. But this will be on your hands!

Two, three, go!

Oh, no!

Oh, wow...

That was really scary...

That was really scary-funny.

I did so scary!

You were so scary. High five.

Hmm.

"What do you know about suffering?

"She takes children into that room with the accordion door

"and tells them stories.

"She also sits behind the information desk

"and answers questions.

"It doesn't matter how drunk or crass they are,

"she speaks with them.

"She should see the danger."

"My gorgeous librarian

"with the freckled hands."

These... these are for you?

I think so.

Freckled hands?

Do you feel threatened?

Rigoletto kills his daughter in the end.

But by mistake.

You know, he kinda-- he ties her in a sack.

Where'd you find them?

That one was in a book inside the children's area.

Any idea who's doing this?

No.

Do you have any connection to Rigoletto or opera?

My father took me to Rigoletto as a kid.

Where's your father now?

Um, he died.

Okay.

Okay, uh, well, let us know if you receive

any more of these notes, or if anything unusual transpires.

I will.

Unfortunately, until he acts,

our hands are tied.

Tell me a story.

Any story.

-Mm, I don't know any stories.

-You're a librarian.

-Those aren't my stories.

-Well, then, read me something.

-Hmm...

Mmm.

I found this in the repair bin today.

"My mother killed her little son.

"My father grieved when I was gone.

"My sister loved me best of all.

"She laid her kerchief over me and took my bones

"that they might lie underneath the juniper tree.

"Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I."

-I will call you Darkest Miriam from now on.

I will read it to you.

"My mother killed her little son.

"My father grieved when I was gone.

"My sister loved me best of all.

"She laid her kerchief over me

"and took my bones that they might lie

"underneath the juniper tree."

"What a beautiful bird am I."

Can I get a low five or a high five?

A low five.

Low five, yeah. That's very nice.

Very nice.

Did I do very carefully?

You did.

Okay, do you wanna do-- I'll do-- I'll do this.

Yeah, you do that one.

And you put that on.

Thank you.

'Cause you just-- Not that.

-Not that one. This one.

'Cause I need to glue that one first.

"Ah!

"Vile scoundrel!

"To you who dare to touch her breast,

"do you think I see nothing?

"Even weaponless, this hand will soon

"be bathed in your blood, you silly fucker.

"You shall be avenged, Gilda,

"oh my daughter of the freckled hands."

Did you see it?

There.

Tucked inside the book.

A note.

A note.

It appeared in your absence.

I collect the notes.

I lock the suitcase.

But then another note appears, written in a hand not my own.

Someone's trying to communicate.

" Milk, cheese, bread, apples, lettuce,

"tomatoes, cucumbers, strawberries, blueberries,

"kale, pineapple, peanut butter."

Some...

somebody's trying to communicate!

" Jam."

Slow day or busy day?

What's been the most frightening

moment of your life so far?

Was it when you hurt your hand?

I was not frightened.

I was in shock, and then pain.

Oh.

Can we not talk about more pleasant things...

than what we find most frightening?

Hmm?

Can you scratch it?

-Yeah. -Oof!

Mmm!

Mmm.

Right here?

-Upper.

-Upper...

-A little lower... Mmm, yeah.

- Harder? - Perfect.

My dispatcher is an asshole.

-Mm-hm.

-I will quit and go far away, and when I come back,

my dispatcher will be an old man with shriveled balls,

who sits on the park bench dispatching pigeons.

-Will the pigeons obey?

They will rebel.

But not how I did against my father,

by ignoring his letters.

They will circle...

...above, dropping white shit in his hair.

He is cruel, and so they will treat him in this way.

Mmm...

Argh!

I am the master.

You will succumb.

You are the pigeon. I am the dispatcher.

Coo, coo...

Coo, coo.

Like a pigeon Darkest Miriam.

Slow day or busy day?

Slow.

It was beautiful out.

People walked.

They weren't in the mood to ride a taxi.

-Anyone memorable?

They were all memorable.

-What did they say? -Nothing.

They told me where they wanted me to take them,

and I drove them there.

-None of them said anything else?

-Nothing.

No one talks to me.

But I listen to them breathing and moving about on the seat.

I heard one of them taking things out of her purse.

I heard another scratching behind his ears.

-You could hear him scratching behind his ears?

-Oh, yes.

I watched him with the eyes in the back of my head.

-Really?

-Yes.

I inherited this from my father.

When he was a teacher, his students thought

that since his eyes were on the blackboard,

he couldn't see their pranks.

But he had eyes on the back of his head, my father.

Suddenly he would turn.

When he threw a piece of chalk,

he could hit a boy in the side of the head,

above the ear, from across the room.

He told me because of his perfect aim,

and the eyes on the back of his head,

his students respected him.

He could be kind to them now and then,

even joke a little bit,

but they wouldn't forget to fear him and to obey his orders.

-In Slovenia?

-Ljubljana.

-You grew up there?

-No, Ljubljana until I was ten.

Then after my parents' divorce, we moved.

-Where to? -All over.

Just me and my mum.

My brother and sister stayed in Ljubljana.

What does your father do?

-Insurance.

-Where are your stories?

-I read you stories all the time.

-Darkest Miriam, you must have stories.

-You don't trust me.

-I do.

What do you want to know?

-I want to know you.

They're on the brink of publishing

a collection of my poems.

-That's exciting.

-Very soon my book will be out.

I'll...

bring you a copy.

-That will be wonderful.

Okay, almost got it here.

-I knew I could count on you.

-I'm so glad.

-They're on the brink of publishing

a collection of my poems.

-That's exciting.

Okay, here's the address.

Raccoon Jaw Press.

-Very soon my book will be out,

and I will bring you a copy.

-That'd be wonderful.

-My father...

my father was a man who read lots of books.

I don't think I ever cried from my father,

but I cried because of the things that remind me of him.

He was a very good man.

A very good man.

As good as any that walked on the face of the Earth.

And now he's dead.

"You...

"Open your eyes.

"What action must I take to convince you that I love you?

"To protect you from a fate like mine

"will take all my cunning.

"I will cause no more pain."

I don't go dancing anymore

because I don't have the right shoes.

Or clothes.

Or the right legs. Or ass.

And then last night, who calls?

My sister, saying the arthritis in my mom's hands

has got so bad, poor old Mom can't even hold a pen.

Not going to the park today?

-No.

-So, what do you say?

Should we go out dancing while we still can?

Anyone wanna come?

You're always so angry when your plans don't work out.

I have no plans.

-Yesterday you planned to meet me here.

-We both planned.

-True.

But then I didn't come on time.

I couldn't.

-I thought I would never see you again.

-I was late because of my dispatcher.

It was my dispatcher's fault.

-I thought...

I would never see you again.

-When I was a child and wanted to think,

I would lock myself in the bathroom.

Even when they pounded on the door,

I pretended I was not inside and refused to open.

But you see, I'm here.

-I know.

You've told me that story before.

-In ten years I will beg you

to stop telling me the same stories of your life.

But for now I want to know, again and again.

-When I'm with you, I feel...

as though I'm standing in tall grass.

It's disorienting.

Will you still be here in ten years?

-Of course.

Whatever direction you will go, all you will find is tall grass.

Are we almost at the greenhouse?

Almost.

-Is anyone else around?

-No.

Nobody I can see,

except two men.

-Hmm.

Where are they?

-Some place faraway, walking their dogs,

off by the edge of the park.

They each have a dog.

One small dog is white, with short legs and short fur.

One big dog is brown,

with curls.

Aw.

Is the moon still out?

Yes!

Is there something else you would like to see?

-No.

-Are you sure?

You could see a lot from my eyes.

-And what happens when we get to the greenhouse?

-Nothing. -Nothing?

-I then close my eyes, Darkest Miriam,

and it's your turn to lead me.

-Well, where to?

-Home.

-You don't have a home, Janko.

-Don't I? -No.

-What about my apartment?

-No.

-And...

my paintings?

-Yeah.

Yes, those are the closest thing you have to a home.

-What if I have children?

Where will they live?

-You won't have children.

-I won't?

You are deciding I won't have children?

-I don't see you having any.

-You mean, you don't want me to have any?

Is that what you mean?

-I'm...

I don't have any idea if I want you to or not.

I'm just saying...

what I see with...

my eyes closed.

-Open your eyes.

-Are...

we at the greenhouse?

-No.

-Then why should I open them?

-Open your eyes.

-No.

-Do you want me to leave you here?

-They're open.

You said that I won't have any children.

It sounded like a curse.

-I was just saying what I saw with my eyes closed.

I wasn't saying what I wanted to see.

-Is it true you don't care if I ever have children or not?

-I don't know.

-I want children.

One day I want to be a father.

The most frightening moment of my life is now,

because I've met you.

Janko...

Yes?

My father had a book collection.

He wrote poetry, but he was never published.

-Yes.

That is more like it.

Not insurance.

Poetry.

-It was huge.

Eventually it overflowed into the garage.

-Where is this book collection now?

-He gave it away.

-What does your father do now?

-Not much.

-Okay.

Hello?

Hello, ma'am, police here.

Is this the residence of Janko Priajtelj?

-Yes...?

Could you please let me up?

This is the residence of Janko Priajtelj?

-Yes. -Ma'am, who are you?

-I'm... I'm Miriam.

And what is your relationship to Mr. Priajtelj?

-He's my boyfriend.

-Ma'am, I'm so sorry, but Mr. Priajtelj

has been killed.

He was found dead in his cab.

His wallet was taken, and in cases like this,

it's usually theft.

Is there anyone I can call for you?

-No.

No.

-And Mr. Priajtelj, did he have any family?

We need to contact the next-of-kin.

-Uh...

In Slovenia, I think.

-I'm gonna ask you to come to the station

and answer a few questions, and we're gonna need someone

to identify the body.

-Right now?

-Yes, ma'am.

-Okay. I'm just-- I'm just gonna change my clothes.

-Okay.

"Weep.

"Child, weep.

"Let your tears flow.

"Let your tears flow.

"Oh...

"on my heart."

"Let your tears flow, my daughter.

"My daughter.

"On my heart."

Whereas many men drink to ease their anguish ,

my father purchased books.

His collection filled the garage,

stacked up against the walls.

The car remained parked in the driveway in every season,

no matter the weather.

He imagined that his collection might one day become

immensely valuable.

Not that he ever planned to sell the books.

"My father was a man who whistled,

"who wove himself an armor of cheerful notes,

"and smiled and smiled.

"Light on his feet for such a heavy man,

"and quick with his hands,

"he would have made a fine magician or a boxer.

"Instead, he wrote poems in rhyming verse

"that nobody would publish and earned his living

"by selling insurance of various kinds.

"I wanted to save him from humiliation.

"One night I set myself the task of memorizing

"as many of his poems as I could.

"Shut in my room,

"I recited them...

"and wept.

"In the morning, my..."

"When I was a young child,

"I rode on my father's shoulders.

"The view was excellent, though it swayed.

"I kept my eye on the shifting horizon

"while he kicked small stones out of our path."

"When I was 18, someone broke my heart.

"A few well-placed blows and my heart shattered.

"One of these blows was administered over the telephone.

"I ran out the front door without stopping

"to put on my coat or boots.

"The freezing air slapped my face.

"My father, who happened to be clearing the front walk,

"tossed aside a shovel

"and ran after me across the lawn,

"his feet breaking the crust, sinking into the deep snow.

"When he caught up,

"he took me in his arms.

"I present this memory in my father's defense

"whenever I take him to trial, as I so often do,

"laying my fears and shyness,

"my crippling self-doubt, at his feet.

"My father had spent the morning whistling.

"He'd mowed the front lawn and trimmed the hedge.

"He'd kissed my mother on the cheek

"and told her she looked 'pretty as a picture.'

"After lunch, he'd gone out back

"to do a bit of spring cleaning in the garage.

"I was 22 years old.

"My brother was 19, and my sister 17.

"My father left no message of farewell for my mother,

"and no note of any kind for his progeny."

They laid my father among his books .

The day does not answer.

Why don't you just take a leave rather than quit?

I have to go.

I just don't want you to regret anything, Miriam.

That's why I have to go.

Mm...

Mm...

-Do you know that one of your ears

is larger than the other?

Come here, show me.

- No. - Show me.

-Show me. -No.

-Show me.

Yes.

This left ear.

It grew during the night.

-No, no.

No. No, no...