Original subtitles

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

THE BLIND OWL

I arrived at Belleville on April 9th, 1955.

Apparently since I had a nice letter to present to the director of the theater,

he hired me on the spot, without asking me a single question.

'THE DAMNED' freely adapted from

'THE BLIND OWL' by SADEGH HEDAYAT

and 'DAMNED BY DESPAIR' by TIRSO DE MOLINA.

The first time the boss came himself, he brought no money,

yet each month, somehow it did come.

On certain days, I'd arrive and find an envelope with my name out of nowhere.

Sometimes, the pay was quite considerable.

But usually, the pay was miserable.

One night, I overheard my coworker swearing that the boss must have died.

But I think he knew no more than I did since he was no more lax than before.

Just reprisal.

I'd already rented a room in the neighborhood before,

but when I saw that my colleague kept his bed in the back of the theater,

I decided to come and sleep here.

To sleep...

I always knew that was essentially what people came here to do.

The films we projected all the time, I never knew who chose them.

I'd always assumed it was the directors,

but now I'm sure they had nothing to do with it.

At the theater's entrance, some posters announced the shows,

Some among them for films that we were showing.

Maybe someone showed them before my time,

but I think that nothing that was shown was ever watched.

As for me, the films.... I never watched them.

There'd be times when I cast an eye to see what was happening on the screen.

It always seemed to me like one resembled all the others.

But what I saw today fascinated me so much...

...that I remained a long time stuck to the glass.

I won't be able to forget even one of these images.

Whether I stayed there watching for a few minutes, a few hours,

I wouldn't be able to say.

That dancer had...

...a gaze of such intensity...

...that I have the impression of being there to this day.

I was quite certain that I had seen her somewhere before

The glow of her eyes, her complexion, her movements...

everything so familiar, as if my soul and hers,

had already met.

Later on, things were otherwise.

Our situations changed.

If the dancer didn't return my gaze,

that just meant that, on the contrary, above all,

my gaze hadn't yet crossed with hers.

So whatever extreme efforts she undertook to evade mine,

only increased the importance that I attributed to her dress.

Alas, I was never able to see the entire film and so I... .

never understood the meaning of her dance.

Every time I tried to follow the story,

it so happened that my co-worker would show up and distract me.

He embraced his damnation.

Kasim really wasn't easy to work with.

He came and went at will.

He ate, no matter what the time, and slept whenever he felt like it.

The manner of his habits in general seemed

to have no other aim than to force other men to yield to him.

It's you, the new one?

I'm Fatima.

I'd only like...

to eat.

Since yesterday, I haven't been able to eat at all.

I hate how you're looking at me.

Excuse me, I--

Excuse me.

'As you please', he should say.

Does this disgust you?

Well...

the head's even worse.

Oh... that's... that's really quite...

That's quite extraordinary.

What?

that... that girl.

Beautiful dancer.

She dances and dances and dances and dances.

Like this, and this, and this...

Watch her.

Like you.

It's time for me to go.

Her dancing increases my pain.

It's been going on a long time.

It's my end, that step.

But in the end the girl is nude.

Yeah.

Nude, I'm telling you: she herself.

More than us.

Now...

that doesn't matter any more.

It's the end.

Yeah. You'd better believe it.

End.

They've cut all that out.

You'll have to go to bed if your manners don't improve.

She's mute.

Poor baby.

That night I had an atrocious dream.

I was taking a walk through an unfamiliar neighborhood.

I don't know what it was about the block.

But it chilled my blood.

One felt that no living creature could ever have dwelt here.

Suddenly, I saw passing that black steam,

and a disgusting smell of rot began to overwhelm me.

I ran as fast as my legs would carry me,

but the source of disgust followed me as if moving along within my own skin.

Trash man!

Bring yours out!

Trash man!

Bring yours out!

I was waiting for you.

Don't tell me,

I forgot to introduce you.

This is Fatima.

My fiancee.

We'll be married in five days.

She's beautiful, huh.

That night, I was taking a long walk.

After several hours walking

just when I was sure I'd traveled far, yet it was

as if the movement of my legs were taking me inexorably back to my point of departure.

At the end of the road,

I saw a boy who was waiting for me in silence.

Right away, I sensed

that he was asking me to follow him, and that this invitation could not be refused.

All that's missing...

first of all

...a little game.

As soon as we arrived,

the doormen cleared the way, without a word said

to ease my entrance

and I was seated in the best place.

I gathered that the spectacle was being enacted just for me...

since there was no one there but me.

But, by a strange twist of fate,

I was incapable of understanding any meaning.

By the time the show was over, it was past midnight.

That week, it was my colleague who was doing the midnight screenings

so my presence wasn't necessary.

Yet, a strange foreboding made me seek him out.

So?

What is it?

You don't say hello?

Don't say hello.

You don't recognize him?

Don't you?

I'm leaving.

I'll leave you with your uncle.

With your uncle.

So then...

you're my uncle?

So then...

you're my uncle?

But...

you're only repeating everything.

Yes. I'm only repeating everything.

Like before.

Like before?

You remember?

I've never had any memories.

Ah yes...

I remember!

You remember.

I remember.

Ah... you see? You're only repeating.

Only repeating... Only repeating...

That's how he is.

I should certainly know.

No respect for elders.

No respect to the aged.

It comes down to this...

just about!

You'd think they'd bring me something to drink...

or to eat.

Not at all!

They just sit there,

swinging free.

'Stupidly repeating,'

that's what you say to me?

Pitiful.

How sad.

Happily, his poor mother never said that.

Why that date? Why should he circle it on the calendar? I could not say at this point.

It seemed to me that whenever my so-called uncle came into the room,

he had a pre-

possession with me.

My defiance only made his attitude more intractable.

I would have liked to have demanded an explanation...

...but he wouldn't listen to me.

He had to come... just like I said.

Such a pain in the ass.

Bastard!

Fuckhole.

You see?

Asshole. He's always like this.

Okay? I spit on your face!

I spit on your face!

Yes, that's it.

Go on. Yes.

I don't give a fuck.

Go on. More!

Once more.

I'm laughing.

If you had a clue,

you'd figure out I don't give a fuck.

I don't give a fuck!

I don't give a fuck!

Piece of shit! Go fuck yourself.

Upon my return, a new surprise was waiting for me.

Hello, mister.

You must be surprised.. I've come without any notice.

But I do have my reasons.

My father died a week ago,

And before making his exit from this world

He left a father's dying wish to find you in too brief a letter

asking that I to place myself freely at your disposal.

He gave me this letter for you.

It is incomplete.

He died just as he was putting the finishing touches on it:

"With regards."

The arrival of this unknown nephew

changed my life more than any other event of that period.

He would follow me everywhere.

And my colleague's niece never let him out of her sight.

All the while, my colleague never lost sight of him for a single second.

And so...

before long the little mute

and my nephew became inseparable.

"Who owes you many thanks and

"hears of you with pleasure, "Sir John Simon"

"As for ourselves,

"no one really believes,

"or could confirm, anyway,

"that it is clear that he cares for him.

"He is anxious to make peace, "except that the posters to that effect

"in every instance, "have been shredded."

Now, repose was utterly denied me.

It became a habit with me to go out every day just before sunset

to walk away the hours of the night.

Sometimes I'd get locked into P�re-Lachaise

and I'd wander around until dawn.

On the night of my last outing, it was nice

for the first time in two weeks.

No doubt, that's why I walked longer than usual.

By the time I returned, the better part of the night was already over.

When she had her eyes closed, I'd be obsessed with seeing them better.

But, the more

I gaze upon her face,

the more she seemed

remote from me.

What to do with the body.

It was essential

that no stranger's gaze should fall upon her.

Never must any ordinary man,

anyone but me, have the right to gaze upon her body.

She'd come to my place to be seen by nobody else.

Finally an idea came to me.

I would cut her up,

put the pieces in my old trunk,

and take her away,

far away from men's eyes.

It needed to be done quickly.

I resolved to come back in the morning.

Take it easy...

Nice and easy.

...the whole arm...

...the hand...

...eyeballs...

...the legs... ...loves the legs...

...bloody water....

...here's the hand of the victim...

...pack the big parts.

...takes the edge off...

... the cutting edge.

Ha-ha... the cutting room!

The wounded screen!

Some water. Water, water!

Some water. More. Water, water!

My uncle seemed to be confident.

If I scrupulously followed his advice, he assured me,

everything would soon return to normal.

Hot stuff coming through.

Heads up.

Hot stuff coming through.

Hang on. I think I've done it.

Watch your back.

Heads up.

The stars...

the stars...

Quiet back there.

If you please...

If you please!

Under the bridge,

A beautiful sight,

The course of the Seine,

And our lovemaking.

How well I remember!

Well.

Alright then.

Arriving at the station, exhaustion overwhelmed me.

Each step required a huge effort.

In my chest, three hearts were beating in extreme discordance.

But then, inexplicable calm penetrated my whole being.

And it seemed to me it all became easy.

It was like I was coming to grips

but it was my uncle enveloping me.

A solitary tale:

to each his own world,

henceforth to dwell in my uncle's body.

4

2

4

3

3

3

2

1

2

3

3

1

1

3

It reminds me of a story, ...a bit

unbelievable.

Well I guess it was a few years ago.

It was on this same line.

I have often encountered a man... uh...

very small....

...I was telling you...

He seemed to grow.

and... he always kept his suitcase next to him.

quite small...

oh no... much smaller than words can express...

But...

oh yes... larger... so huge...

And this man was talking,

talking without cease,

the whole night without getting tired.

Just then, I noticed something very curious...

...which was...

- ...the movement of his lips.... - ...Brazil...

...didn't actually correspond to what he was saying.

...potato...

...and in fact his lips weren't moving at all

because the man was asleep.

Argentina

But the voice continued, uninterrupted.

That's when I realized that the voice was coming from the suitcase.

...very softly, I'm afraid...

Poorly disguising his ...slight differences.

A man,

in every detail,

exactly like his companion hidden within.

Had I attempted to open it,

it would have caused quite a stir,

since no one could ever have imagined that a man was packed inside of this small suitcase.

To be brief,

the man was telling me that, no sooner had the two partnered

than they had already conceived this strategy to anticipate any attack.

Two days after that night, we were able to set our business.

But...

what stuck with me was that suitcase.

Anyway...

Sparing only the tenth degree which is the kind of thing he'd try to pull

And that was just the moment

that the other tried to put his plans forward in his place.

The man recounted still more stories

that I didn't have the strength to hear.

Some stories raise questions that are able to transfigure into ghosts.

In the end, I understood that he wanted nothing else than

for someone to listen.

Fatima [Do me]

twins [word play]

voyage [bye]

Come on.

Let's get going.

That's right.

I'll get it.

Step by step

and step by ste--

Step.

...Here!

It's here.

Just your type,

These two charmers...

All's well that end's well.

Nature. All the seasons.

Where are you off to?

The head! The head!

Hang on... the head!

Hold on!

Quiet!

The head!

The head!

Quiet!

It smells like love.

Sweetens my heart.

Touches my heart.

It smells like love.

You know my hearts.

I don't want to go back.

I... I want to return to Paris.

I don't want to go back.

I want to go back to Paris.

I want to go back to the country.

Remember yourself!

Remember! I hate it on the mouth.

- Not on the lips! Not on the lips! - I want to go back to Paris.

I want to go back to Paris.

I want to go back to Paris.

I want to go back to Paris.

Several weeks must have passed since I'd become incapable of getting out of bed.

Fever consumed me, making me delirious.

I relived my sinister journey

believing that I heard a voice from beyond announcing my death.

Tuberculosis.

I saw my death as if it was a film.

Plague.

But the actor given my part played the role with such naive conviction.

- Heart attack. - that I couldn't stop myself from laughing.

You're funny.

It must have been at least a week of repeated visions of my own agony

Melancholy.

which ended only once I had regained a semblance of health.

To your good health.

So close to regaining my health,

I felt that it would require forgetting all that and start, with bitterness, a new life

Where's that? Someone knows.

like those in the stories they'd told me out of pity for me.

Ishmael was born of Abraham.

Here begins the story of Aba Yahyar ibn Abu Bakhra

as recounted by Ibn Abas may it please Allah.

Thanks be to Allah

for all of these gifts.

Who are you?

We've been made your mother as such.

Djinn, what do you want with me?

Your fathers have lived.

Lying woman!

Lying woman.

Your father is dead.

Your uncle rested for a time right here.

Is that right?

Since Allah holds one more pious than you,

you will go across the sea.

Lying woman.

You shall find your dead father, which is to say

where you shall find your father living.

And now I shall show you the way

to find your dead and crazed uncles...

So to proclaim to everyone his sacred humility, the man traveled wearing

his Aljutba only.

He searched far and wide for his two uncles.

the one who was dead

and the other, hopelessly crazed and out of his mind.

Who are you?

We are weeping and weeping no more.

We are sated and hungry.

We are your dead uncle.

We sleep, believing and reconciled.

We bone and eat

knights and holy men.

We are the Seven Sleepers of Ephesus.

Go to the mountain to find your uncles.

All the day long, traveled the holy man

into the woods where for some time he encountered no one.

Yet he continued to search deeper and deeper

into the woods for his living uncle

who was crazy out of his mind.

Who is this?

Your mother told you who we are, your uncle and me,

Here we shall show you how to

find the great sinner who Allah holds

more holy and pious than you

who are so pious and who kills

the saints and who sins more grievously

than he who is the greatest sinner.

It was said that in the great city of Grenada

there lived two twin brothers who came from the markets of Marrakech.

Who's afflicting you, I demand to know.!

The best answer:

silence.

Modesty and faith progress together.

So asked our Prophet:

"What is love?"

His answer:

"Only the heart's teacher."

Ali! Come!

Ali! Come!

What does it mean?

She's a witch.

Where will it lead?

Love.

Love of what?

Such a love as leads to the grave.

And who could it be who knows not of these twin brothers,

since first they fell in love with the Jewish singer:

she who could sing and who, better even than Eve, could dance?

No wonder the twin brothers loved the same woman.

It was said she lived split between these twin brothers.

like the apparition of two lights reflecting along the horizon...

Just so, the two men searched everywhere in the same place.

"The most beautiful day of love has come,"

was cried out in reproach and rumor.

Thus the blind, harsh fate of the condemned

shall only open the eyes of the innocent man.

How you mistaken me for someone else?

That's funny.

I'm also looking for someone else.

I'm waiting for Kasim.

He'll be here later?

No...

He won't be back. He's already left. I came to take his place.

Yeah?

His impulses are disgusting.

You all say I've fallen in love with you.

What's frightening you?

A day of such annoying people.

You're really frightened.

You remembering someone?

Someone who'd like to speak with you? [Someone who doesn't love you?]

I see.

I know a few things about that.

It's her, isn't it?

He's not fooled,

not by either of us.

And so it happened that the woman danced

and became two for the two twins.

And to both of them,

she became identical.

Indistinguishable one from another.

Wherever two was, there'd be one and wherever one, there'd be two.

And thus the twins would become one for them,

so that only one thing distinguished them which was that one drank more water.

Such a one was never known like the man who

watched the miasmas running through the skein

who had become like one bewitched

and like a madman.

Such was he who believed he could live among those congregated in the theatre

and who believed in nothing

but beautiful djinns and imaginary things.

What's happened?

Fatima, according to a curious superstition,

believed she could capture images in her right hand

and sound in her left hand.

According to her, it easy enough

to trap them by leaving her hand open for a few moments in front of a projector.

It's nothing.

Haven't you learned?

She was convinced that these images and sounds

had a very high nutritional value.

That's why she ate and drank them regularly.

Head game.

Boy.

We are newly married.

You're like the rest,

bastards!

It's you who's like the rest.

He's much too powerful that you.

The rejoinder is excessive.

I demand you satisfy it in a royal ordeal.

Tonight, you will both return to face off.

The night will decide.

If there are any wounds,

I'll choose an alternate.

I must blindfold my eyes

lest I seem to favor one of you.

I spent all afternoon preparing for the ordeal.

I abandoned myself to pure violence.

I freed myself of all restraints where my colleague was concerned

in order to prey upon his fear without wounding him.

But I had too much courage to call off our fight.

Too much strength becomes awkward.

By the end of the afternoon,

I knew how I could beat him to his breaking point: with greater dedication.

Stand at attention

for 15 minutes past 11 o'clock.

There it is.

It's here.

Farewell!

Witches are everywhere.

It's strange.

I feel it very well.

I haven't...

Me, I haven't too much...

Okay.

What an odd match.

What an odd match.

The battle has been waged.

Sept Arte Cinema.

Such an odd match.

What's...

I haven't finished...

...an odd match.

Who has won?

Odd match.

What an odd match.

Good.

It's done.

He's unmasked.

"Elsewhere, a new statute,

"promulgated in 1923

"has standardized new recruitment and working conditions."

He's going to die.

He's going to die.

I want to see this film again.

- No... - ...memories...

that's from the sickness.

I...

...assure you I'm your uncle!

It's not my film.

Yet again, looking for all that.

Each day, a staged episode and yet the wedding gets postponed.

I'm your uncle.

You see. That's the sickness that comes from thinking about film.

Around here there came one who laughed and laughed

like one who doesn't know himself

since one is just like the other.

Later he took up with the Jewish woman!

Therefore, go to Cordoba and once there

find your cousin, who is known as a holy woman.

She went to Cordoba to find she

whom Allah had found more holy than she.

The story that I am showing, in speaking, I've understood it.

Just when

his appearance could be felt,

in would rush their murmurs

of obscure moral processes.

And the spectators' laughter, excited less by enthusiasm than from terror,

are to me due to endless diversion.

And so these blessed men sought the way

and they came like pilgrims to

Cordoba.

There, they hoped to find, living among them,

his father, crazy and out of his mind.

They stopped at some distance from great Cordoba

to pray that Allah forgive their sins and shamelessness.

In the place where they were going,

there was the souk.

Here was a youth who fought with his uncle

and got evicted his from his home.

I am called Mustapha.

Night after night, an angel has appeared to me in dreams.

He told me to look for you here

and to offer you

the protection of my home

where we must hasten now.

Infinite thanks.

Now staying in the house of his uncle,

and he was to be married to a Jewish woman from Tetouin

who was the twin sister of this other woman

who had driven two twin brothers insane

And they were otherwise healthy and religious and obedient to the Koran,

which guided and directed them.

But no one understood this to be so because his Jewish wife

and his Christian niece did not wear the veil.

So it was said that day and night

they dined at a table with assassins.

You must take care or men will say that you are

an idolatress.

But these valiant knights

chastised raging infidels and heretics,

for there is no god but God.

You've never seen better chicken than this.

But there are better chickens

and fat doves.

How I'd love to take their heads and slit their throats.

And so here we have at this table two assassins,

the uncle and the son come from France

who was said to be a follower of Plato

and who was known as Ibn Al Falatun.

I am holy and good.

Allah infused with light his tranquil words.

Lies! Unbelievable lies!

What you call paradise is hell!

What you call pleasure, only the torments of the flesh.

Forgive my uncle,

he is crazy.

To search for such sorrows here,

to what end?

No liars here.

Better to sing to us a sister's song better than herself.

I am laughing because I am laughing

And this laughter

in my mouth...

is like the water

of the river,

which flows through crazed rocks.

I saw you, still laughing and laughing,

I saw you there in the field,

But when you came chasing after me,

I fell down, bursting into tears.

Who should this be but a holy man pursuing his first cousin?

What should she be seeking in the stalls throughout the souk?

What should the holy man be chasing after?

There was one in the souk, a butcher who collected heads

in the midst of such stalls and workshops.

He was the butcher of sinners.

He'd capture heads and proceed

to cut off their occasions of sin.

What's mine is yours!

I've been praying to Allah so he'll pardon our sins.

What sins?

I gather you're speaking about the djinns

who possess the bodies of animals?

My God.

It was God who created them.

I am a Christian. I was born in Goa.

I am devoted to the Virgin Mary

who gave birth to Jesus Christ.

My name is Rosalia de Albuquerque.

By my father, I am a Christian

and by my mother, I have the laws of the Koran

which guide

and instruct.

You've been seeing ghosts.

In broad daylight,

there came upon my mother like a rapist just such a ghost.

He wears an Aljutba!

And speaks with a Medina accent.

For such things, they say Allah finds him most holy but I'm starting to learn otherwise.

You mean that we're all damned.

Of such sins, one shouldn't speak

or we'll become like a soulless rock.

That's just what this world is:

wretched conditions, cripples, and fakers.

Beware!

Wherever we are, God hears us.

Souls which continue to fight a losing battle

only to come upon soulless rocks along their weeping path.

Where is this?

Where is this?

There are such occasions when blood kin

have searched for sin.

And having sinned,

they search for good,

and find only evil lost along their way.

Just like what people do in the cinema

whether along with everyone else

or by themselves.

They take day for night,

until their parents decide to consent

and arrange the wedding.

Just... just look at them!

They're crazy

They're touching! They're touching!

The hands!

Oh... but...

The hands!

Too far!

Bestial.

Bestial!

The hands.

The hands!

This is out of bounds.

This is out of bounds!

Thus I discovered I no longer needed to watch the film.

Henceforth, it would be part of me.

I would see it projected on the walls of my room.

On the face of my nephew and on the sheets of my bed.

I could discern in a dog's bark, a man's groan, or a bird's song--

all of them---telling me one grand tale of my two fathers,

of my two uncles,

and of my mother, the dancer.

These men who resembled me---

obedient to their parents, with the same needs, the same passions, the same desires as me---

they were showing another reason to live that spoke to me.

Yet this other reason cast a shadow,

created solely to taunt me with its radiance.

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

She would become, step by step, the supreme sinner of the night.

It so befell them that

on the very night of the wedding, she didn't want to do it

and she turned her back on her husband

and groaned and looked scornfully at him.

So he caressed the little wife

With the names of things, decorating her shameful parts.

Even in the souk, the names of things are considered impolite.

They're all mine! They're all mine!

Who is your God?

My God?

This is my God!

When the new moon comes to me,

One like those whirling through the heavens.

A welcome sign, I say, ...a welcome sign.

O moon crazier even than whirlwind!

Not to your taste?

Come in.

I'll show you my house of sweets.

They are all the heads of cutthroats and robbers.

All thieves, incapable of mercy.

Tell me, man of little faith, how do you know who is damned?

Is there no hope of pardon?

I don't know what you mean by pardon.

I am acquainted with the damned

here among my friends

where we talk and we sing together.

You're telling me that you are also damned?

Damnation is for the living.

Their souls have been saved,

for perdition.

I will tell you stories of the dead

among many other mournful things.

The heads lining the walls of this dungeon,

represent the most fundamental vices:

the king of highway robbers

and he of the high seas--

both, by my skill, chaste as the purest of women;

the counterfeiter--

he never knew what struck him;

a rapist with no flesh left for anything.

Such a holy man was he that he

spent the entire night restlessly without sleep,

in such a great rage had he ravaged her.

He begged for her pardon, but she could offer none.

And so he was led with great regret

to set aside his humble courtesies.

Such is he who knows how to butcher the damned,

and such is she who sings of laughter but is not able to offer a pardon.

If the singer could not pardon, then she could at least sing lamentations.

There's a particular method for cutting off heads

and cutting up bodies.

My cutting method follows those spoken of by Aristotle

and in doing so, I act in strict accord with established scripture:

that we are only the children of Allah, walking before and behind;

that when we are born, we die;

that when we die, we are born;

and that, at the end of life, our worms devour us

because Death doesn't like the meat

of those who are already dead.

And in certain moments, we lose our minds

because we are two and not one.

For all is two and only Allah is one.

Want some fresh meat?

Don't talk that way. It's sinful.

What do you know?

I should know sin.

I am a great sinner.

What is the old man doing in the carcass?

Is he crazy?

He's my uncle.

Liar.

No.

He isn't my uncle.

He's hiding my uncle.

He's the man I've always given the name of uncle.

And thanks to him,

I make bacon here

and other cuts.

Ah... I guess that you'll be saved

and that I'll be damned.

So it is written.

Praise be to God [goodbye]

for all eternity.

See there?

The day has come.

The day has come.

Just look.

Look.

I have marked the date.

I have marked the date.

The date? But...

All that was going to get done has been accomplished.

Whatever else...

will take care of itself.

We should say our goodbyes.

Good bye.

He's only repeating,

like before.

You remember all of that?

I... I love aides memoires.

I've never had any memories.

I understood that that day had closed

and in the space of that day, I had aged some fifty years.

One day,

or perhaps one month and a day,

or perhaps one year and a day.

What does it matter?

Past, future,

days, months, years, childhood, youth, old age,

all these words were not for me but for the rabble.

My life, or should I say our life,

has always know only one season and state of being,

perpetually recommencing.

In just a single day, in just a single place,

we're able to live through all the ages of our history,

but we're condemned to repeat them without end.

Of those who made this film in Cordoba,

for example the sinners,

it's better not to mention their souls to the saints.

subtitles: depositio