Original subtitles

I put my heart into the future. And I wait. That's all.

I would never have imagined you on a motorbike.

Yeah, well, it's new. I had a smaller one before.

Do you remember?

What do you mean?

You don't remember.

Go on, open it!

They are looking at us as if to say: "What are they doing?"

We aren't doing anything strange.

It's too early for dinner and the restaurant is open.

I didn't call you other times because I thought it might be too strange.

Why strange?

I don't know. It's strange, right?

It's always strange with you.

I think of you often

and I wonder

how everything is going for you

what you are doing.

In the movie I have in my head you are quite happy.

We normally prefer to have the sensation that stories

never end.

We prefer to imagine,

wondering what might have been.

This morning I went for a walk.

It was cold but it was nice.

The light was lovely.

And I remembered a walk

I took nine years ago, just before I left.

I think I needed that walk to convince myself that I was going.

I was unhappy after what happened with Jaime and

I felt that the only way to get better was to go.

But to go far away.

I suppose I needed to make that effort, to demonstrate that...

I had that strength.

I suppose I needed that, it was also a way of legitimising myself to him.

And to myself.

At the time I didn't tell myself that was the reason but it pretty much was.

And...

he suddenly appeared one night.

He came to the theatre.

He had bought a ticket without telling me,

he had arrived in Buenos Aires, and had worked out where I was acting,

and waited for me there,

on the sidewalk.

And it was quite a shock.

When I saw him there, in front of me, I think...

we both realized at the same time that it wasn't going to be easy.

He stayed three days in Buenos Aires

and we...

walked, talked,

slept together, and...

We tried to regain what we had lost.

I think the only thing we got

was the assurance that we had used up all our possibilities...

And there was nothing left.

It was really quite sad.

But...

now when I think of it I think it was a good thing.

I think...

from that moment on I could build a more real life in Buenos Aires.

I began to live without analysing every gesture

nor thinking about myself through him,

or through the idea I had of myself.

I don't know if I am explaining it well.

Perfectly.

Ok, but I am the one speaking nonstop.

That's bad.

You say something.

Tell me something.

I don't know.

What do you want me to tell you?

-I don't know... -Would you like to order dinner?

-No, not just yet. -No.

I would like another beer.

-Beer? -I'm ok, with my tea, thank you.

Are you still writing?

Yes. I write.

But I am mostly translating.

I make my living translating books.

And now you don't write your own stuff?

Yes, but I like translating.

I don't know...

Translating is also writing.

And you don't have to worry about creating a new structure,

shaping something new...

You don't have to write anything too personal.

You like to hide behind the words of others.

Well...

I like...

to transmit to others the ideas of others.

I think it's a nice form of transmission, I like it.

I also give private English classes to kids.

Thank you.

Well, friends of my parents' kids, in their houses...

And are you still with...

-Clara? -Yes.

In fact we have just moved in together.

-To a different apartment. -How is that?

Good. Really good.

Are you going to have kids?

I think so.

You sound very sure.

Well, she is the one who has more doubts, about having them now I mean.

I suppose you can have that doubt

when you know you are with the person you want to have them with.

Sometimes she tells me the world is shitty

and that we shouldn't collaborate.

That type of thing.

What does she do?

She's a psychiatrist.

Then she should have faith in humanity.

Yes.

It really depends on the day.

She finished her residency and she started to work in a hospital.

Sometimes she has to do a night shift and comes home

and she tells me the strangest things...

Actually she tells me less and less...

Are you with anyone at the moment?

No.

Not for quite sometime.

I've had flings and things...

But I've been single for quite sometime.

Well, you never thought couples work...

Why do you say that?

For no reason.

I have to use the bathroom.

Would you like to order dinner?

-No. -No.

Another tea.

No, do you have... Fernet?

Internet?

No, Fernet Branca. No, right?

Then I'll have a whisky.

Whisky?

A straight whisky, no ice. Whatever you have is fine.

-And for you? -For me...

I don't know. Do you have any Chinese liquor?

-Rice liquor. -Rice liquor, perfect.

-Thank you. -Great.

Fernet is an Italian drink, right?

Yes, but they also drink in Argentina. It's fashionable there now.

It used to be what old people drank. It tastes like medicine but it's good.

But it's nothing like whisky. I don't know why I ordered whisky.

Hey,

I have been thinking

about what you said earlier about how I don't think the couple works...

-Ah, but you don't need to listen to me. -No, no, no.

No, it is important,

because it's not true, not at all.

-No? -No. It's just that...

There is a scientific explanation...

A scientific explanation?

A friends father is a neurologist and he has always told me

that we are totally autonomous, profoundly individual.

That there is not one scientific theory that can defend the idea of the couple.

I think I find the idea of the couple interesting precisely because of that:

because it is absurd, because it goes against nature...

And I generally dislike people who are single.

They all end up seeming egotistical,

or they are crazy,

or they try to occupy their time with something that gives their life meaning.

It's unhealthy.

And I don't want that.

It's true I am single and it's scary.

Because you start to like it. And now I can be with somebody

who I like more and who I like less, and who gives me what I need

-some nights and some days. -Right.

-That's nice, right? -Very nice.

Ok, I am unleashed: I am rooting like a there's no tomorrow.

Rooting?

Root means to fuck.

Since I arrived in Madrid I have been with someone different every night,

and tonight it's your turn...

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

Shall we order some dinner?

What time is it?

Quarter to nine.

Damn.

It's just that...

You are going to laugh but...

it's just that, as I didn't know what we were going to do...

-Do you remember my father? -Of course.

Well he has a gig now, close by

-and I have to go. -Of course.

It's been ages since I last saw him play

and I was with him yesterday and I promised him I would go.

But I don't know...

if you want to come, you are welcome.

If you want... Is not weird...

Ok.

-Are you sure? -Yeah, I'm sure.

Ok?

Yeah, it's just that, I have to...

Of course, you have to let Clara know.

Yes, but I can...

I don't know whether to call her or...

And, what will you tell her?

Nothing. I am going to a gig with you.

Great.

Ok, shall we pay?

Yes, yes of course.

It's funny,

now I like this Christmassy feeling.

The cold, the lights.

The rain.

In Buenos Aires it's summer. It's very different.

That must be very strange, Christmas in summer...

Well, for them it's normal.

There are less lights and decorations

and then suddenly you see the typical image of Santa Claus.

You eat turrón, but you are swimming in a pool.

Do you fancy some chestnuts?

Chestnuts?

I haven't eaten chestnuts since I was 11 years old.

I love them.

-Hi. -A dozen, please.

I am afraid I have lived my life as if it were a simulation.

And I have been a bad actor trusting in opening night.

But what life will be prolonged or have a second performance,

if everything in it is an improvised and stuffed part.

I am afraid I have spent my life gathering the courage I lack,

and declaring solemn intentions in front of the mirror.

Leaving things for a better time that never arrives.

I have always been distracted with my mind so far away.

And now it is late,

quite late.

I am afraid I am badly wounded.

I am afraid I have used myself up

as if I

had the talent

to live

twice.

Twice.

I am afraid I have lived my life as if it were a simulation.

As if I had the talent to live two lives.

For having left the life that matters in exchange for a future occasion,

and for having wasted in drafts the present one.

Thank you very much.

Play This Album!

No, This Album I don't play it.

Never, he never plays it, it sucks, never.

I am going to play...

An old song that I composed many years ago.

A romantic song, perhaps a little corny.

But anyway, she liked it.

It's for a little lady that's here among us.

I dedicate this especially to her:

We are always beginners.

And now, when they are defeated, sitting face to face,

which of the two will dare to break the silence that envelops them?

She delves her gaze to the floor and he in her eyes, soul inside,

with the hope of reunion.

With the hope of reunion.

Will they able to repeat the words that lovers say,

and speak them as if they had never been said before?

These words encompass the world and the sky belongs to whoever speaks them.

That's why they cost you your life.

That's why they cost you your life.

We are always

beginners.

We are always beginners and love is never-ending.

Hardships. This is what it gives us.

Because nobody knows anything about their own love.

Lo and behold the prisoners of the eternal ceremony.

How incomprehensible their laws seem, how faded it remains in memory.

In fact, once I too bore that fire,

and I visited those same quarters

where I loved and sometimes was loved,

where I loved and sometimes was loved.

But time flies

and the sad hour when they drift apart will soon come.

Maybe time will give them

the wont of a same bed,

the tranquil gardens of boredom or the hell of weariness.

The river doesn't bring anything else.

The river doesn't bring anything else.

We are always

beginners.

We are always beginners and love is never-ending.

Hardships. This is what it gives us.

Because nobody knows anything about their own love.

No. Nobody knows anything about their own love.

No. No. Nobody knows anything about their own love.

Thank you very much. You are very kind.

I would like to play a new song I have.

Whatever you want!

A new song I wrote not long ago,

-in a hermitage. -We love you!

-Truckloads! -Thank you.

It's called

-Arcadia must be blooming. -The hermitage thing, is it true?

The Joy of Life... Play! The Joy of Life!

Fragments of a heart,

ashes in the wind,

the diminished piece of,

an old emotion.

Things that are not,

final dry leaves

falling in slow spirals,

soap bubbles.

And you don't even feel sorry...

-Look at them over there. -...only the sorrow of not feeling pain.

-Who? -That couple over there.

And, however,

Arcadia must be blooming,

Arcadia must be blooming,

beyond the bronze gates of time...

-How are you? -Fine.

-Everything ok? -Yes, great.

-What did you think? -Great! You were great!

-You didn't like it? -It was a little tacky.

-No way! It was great! -I need a drink, but something strong!

Pardon me, excuse me. Excuse me, please?

-Dad... -Yes.

Daniela, please, that bottle of Oporto that's mine, that I have reserved...

Please, that Oporto that's so good.

Dad, I have come with Olmo, I don't know if you remember him.

-Hi. Nice to meet you. -Olmo. Nice to meet you, a pleasure.

Congratulations I really enjoyed the gig.

-Truly congratulations. -Thanks.

I'm not sure if you remember him, from high school.

Olmo!

-It's been a long time. -It has.

Olmo! "Novecento"?

That's me.

What names we used to give back then!

I wanted to call Manuela, Barbara

and her mother insisted on Manuela only because she was born on the 18th of June.

-The 28th, dad. -Right, the 28th...

Barbara!

Like the French singer, my favourite singer.

Barbara, amazing. I don't know if you like her.

-Yes. -Would you like an Oporto?

-I'm going to have one. -No thanks.

-You don't want one? -No.

I'll have one.

The same bottle please, and in a wine glass please, never in a tumbler.

I need some air,

I only want the air

that you breathe

and from far away you send me...

This message arrived,

arrived a little late

to see the sun

that is not seen anymore.

Send me a little of your Buenos Aires.

Show me a little of your Buenos Aires.

Tell me a little of your Buenos Aires.

Bring me a little...

air.

What day do you leave?

On the 9th.

After the three wise kings.

But are you ok there?

Yes, I can't complain.

And if I came to Madrid, I don't really know what I would do.

I don't want to live at my mother's.

I think if I went anywhere, I would go to Japan.

A totally different culture, a language that you don't understand at all.

Because you haven't been abroad much, have you?

No, not really.

Look at that red balloon in the storm, so pretty.

It's like a sunrise, right?

-What's wrong? -Nothing...

It's just that I have been thinking this whole time that...

-What? -Since you gave me the letter...

it's just, sorry...

I didn't know how to react.

I felt stunned, I didn't know...

I felt like... I recognized what I read but no...

Don't worry about not remembering.

I don't really remember anything either.

But these days in my mother's house, going through stuff,

I found loads of our things.

And there are more,

but I found this letter in particular really funny.

Let's see, give it to me.

-Do you need to reread it? -Yes, give it to me.

Look: "But we know something that older people aren't able to know,

not even us when we are older".

-This is great. -It is.

Yes, yes. I wish I knew what I meant...

That's just what you meant that then we were more...

"We could imagine this future when we are 30", 30 for instance.

"twice our age now, we will be different,

-as we'll have been through many things". -If you read it like that,

with that indifference, with that shitty tone,

-naturally it won't have any charm. -What tone?

-That's the tone in which I wrote. -No, that is not the tone!

No, no, no, forget it.

-You wrote it from another place. -I don't know.

-Read it properly. -"We could...".

Ok, you read it, let's see... you know what the tone is, so let's see.

Ok: "The important thing...".

"The important thing

-is to believe in us now..." -Come on man!

"...because that will give us strength in the future".

-This seems made up. -"I think what you see as dark

is life that hasn't happened yet, like a tunnel..."

"like a tunnel you have to cross but once across, light will surely return".

-Here you lost it. -Don't laugh, this is good.

"It's a little scary".

-That metaphor is fine. -It's a clichéd metaphor.

-I like that part, give it to me, -No, no, no, it's mine.

-And this is better. No way man. -No, no.

"...almost two months ago...."

"I don't think we met too early.

I think we met at the best moment in our lives".

Man, I think you should take that letter and destroy it so there is no proof.

The strange thing is that you kept it.

Didn't you keep my letters or what?

Well, yes. I would have to find them.

-You don't know where they are? -Yes, I would have to find them.

How can you be so faint-hearted and such an ass?

You know what we should do?

You should go to your house now and copy out all the letters

from our time together and you should give them to me tomorrow.

I'm sure they are the only fucking letters that are worth anything,

as clearly one of us is lame and a dick.

I think that's the perfect excuse to see each other again,

but let's go and drink something, ok?

-No. -The night is young.

No, man, I don't want to drink anything with you.

Yes, come on, let's go to a bar.

-Hi. -Hi. What would you want to drink?

-Do you have Fernet here? -Do you have Fernet?

-Yes. -Yes.

-One. -Two.

-With Coca Cola? -Yes.

Sure?

Do you really think that best moment of your life has already happened?

I don't know.

Yes, it's possible.

12 euros, guys.

-No. I'll pay. -You'll pay? Thanks!

Thank you.

Half an hour!

I have never told you this,

but when we broke up for good

and you went out with Carlos

I was in such a bad way

-that my mother took me to the doctor. -No...

They didn't know what to do with me because I was really depressed

and my mother didn't understand me, because I didn't tell her anything.

And I remember the doctor.

I was in his office alone with him and suddenly

he asked me: "What's wrong?". And I told him: "I am depressed".

And it was the first time I had told the truth about what was going on.

I told him I was depressed because I was in love

and it was unrequited

and that was why I was sad.

But it was you who told me to go out with him.

You were ahead of me, don't you remember?

I couldn't fight against that.

I didn't cause anything perhaps I just sped it up.

The only thing you didn't do was to marry us and be the priest. Fuck off!

Do you see what you are like?

I think that in part I am who I am thanks to you.

-What? -In part I am who I am thanks to you.

Or because of you...

In fact I thought I could change you much more than what I really did.

I wanted to change you that much but I only changed you this much.

Really?

I followed you and did what I could

but you were, as always, ahead of everything.

The music you listened to,

your clothes...

The strange thing is that someone like you would choose me.

You had to be avant-garde in that too.

But what are you saying? I had no idea about anything.

I knew two things that I tried to apply as best I could.

But I was really self-conscious back then.

Excuse me, let me remind you that I was so timid that when I started school

the teachers called my mother at home. And said:

"Sorry, but your son can't stay here.

He needs to go to a special education centre".

They thought I couldn't speak.

I never opened my mouth.

I don't believe you.

-Oh my goodness! -Oh my goodness!

What are you doing here?

Hey! Cris says we should go somewhere else. This place is closing now.

Cris is great and it's been ages since I've seen her.

We are going to a place where they are going to dance

and if we don't go with them, they won't let us in.

I don't dance. I don't like it.

Ok, man, it doesn't matter, I don't either.

Where would we go?

Why don't you and I have a drink in another place?

Or buy some beers and drink them over there in the square?

Yeah, but it's cold...

No, man. We are going to dance, you will like it.

-Have a little faith. -Shall we go?

Yes, I am trying to convince him.

-Don't be a dick! -I don't know how to dance.

-Don't worry. -Me neither, I have no idea.

-I will teach you. -He is a teacher and he will teach us.

-Adrian. -Adrian, that's right.

It's just that I have my motorbike a bit far away to go and get later...

-I think I'm going to go. -It's close by.

-A couple of blocks. -Lets go, ok?

-Yes. Come on, let's go. -Shall we go?

-Come on. -Come on, come!

Come on, come on.

You are going to love it, you'll see. It's really cool!

I don't know how to dance.

I loved it.

You, totally went nuts.

It was amazing.

I didn't expect it.

Fragments of a heart,

ashes in the wind,

the diminished piece of,

an old emotion.

Things that are not,

final dry leaves

falling in slow spirals,

soap bubbles.

And you don't even feel sorry,

only the sorrow of not feeling pain.

And, however, Arcadia must be blooming,

Arcadia must be blooming,

beyond the bronze gates of time,

Arcadia must be blooming.

But where?

Ashes in the sea

the foam of the water.

Forms of oblivion that chance forges.

The uncaring passing

of time over things.

Blurry words

that made you cry.

And you don't even feel sorry,

only the sorrow of not feeling pain.

And however, Arcadia must be blooming,

Arcadia must be blooming,

beyond the bronze gates of time, my love,

Arcadia must be

blooming.

But, where is the cherry tree in its splendour?

Where is the golden shepherd?

Where are the red fruits of summer?

Where is your laugh, my love?

Where is the tiger sleeping next to its prey?

Where is the returning blackbird?

Where is the fountain of your beautiful hours?

Where are the words you recall?

Where is the bride who in the green meadow

turns with her eyes still covered?

Where is the rose? Where is the hawthorn?

Where is the sweetness of the fountains of flax?

Where is the free will of all the creatures?

Where is naked innocence.

Arcadia must be blooming,

Arcadia must be blooming.

Beyond the bronze gates of time, my love,

Arcadia must be

blooming.

But, where?

Where, my love?

You stink.

Go have a shower, ok?

-Good morning. -Good morning.

You're not going to tell me anything? How was last night?

Good, good...

A bit... a bit crazy.

But good.

When you texted me that you were going to her father's gig,

-I thought it was quite surreal. -It was really surreal.

The people that were at the concert...

It was good to see him.

Remember the book I have

of Leonard Cohen lyrics translated into Spanish?

He gave it to me.

I found it funny

that they translated "Givin' me head on the unmade bed"

as "Givin' me heads on the unmade bed".

Later there was a more careful version,

which was translated well.

"Givin' me a blowjob on the unmade bed".

I think that was my first instinct as a translator.

A blowjob... Not bad.

So, did you hook up?

No.

No.

But I danced.

-You danced? -I danced.

With a lawyer.

-With a lawyer? -A friendly lawyer who told me

that mornings she goes to court and afternoons she teaches swing-dance.

-Did you dance swing at her father's gig? -No.

We went to another place where you have to enter by a small tunnel.

You have to make a phone call to get in.

It was a place with people dancing

and at one point everyone was clapping and we formed a circle.

People went and danced in the centre.

And I went into the centre.

Actually it was in self defence.

I had no other choice...

I was there in the centre and I felt a sensation of...

They applauded me!

They applauded me a lot!

Oh my goodness!

And how was it with Manuela?

Good, I don't know.

In fact,

just after we saw each other she gave me a letter I wrote to her when I was 15.

I didn't remember that letter at all.

What did you write in the letter?

Imagine the things we wrote when we were 15 years old...

Silly things!

Ok, but if she gave it to you it must have been important.

No, not really.

I think she gave it to me to see how I would react.

To provoke me.

First love is always important.

I remember my first boyfriend... well, "boyfriend".

I had been in love with him since I was 11 and he never paid me any attention.

I'd had a crush on him for years. We weren't together for very long.

I had idealized him.

And the last time I saw him we would have been about 19.

And I remember that I looked at him and thought:

"How can someone change so much in such a short time ".

I thought he was awful. It was as though he wasn't the same person.

I don't know. I looked at him and now nothing...

Now nothing.

Well, from my point of view she is the same.

Lots of things have happened after all this time,

but she seems the same to me.

Is she staying a few days and then going back to Buenos Aires?

She leaves on the 9th.

On the 9th she goes.

Are you going to see her again?

No.

I don't think so.

Ok, shall we go to the exhibition?

-What are you saying, you are exhausted. -No, I want to go.

Go and get some sleep. We will see later.

No, no I don't want to sleep. I want to go with you to the exhibition.

I feel like it.

-Are you sure? -Of course, we had planned it.

Ok.

-I will have a shower and we'll go. -Ok.

Are you ready?

-Let's go. -No. No we're not going.

Sorry.

-I will stay here... -Go to bed.

-No, I'll stay here. -Come on!

Do I have to take your shoes off?

What did you do last night?

Nothing.

I had a coffee with Andrea and I came home.

I was reading The Magic Mountain.

The Magic Mountain.

Yes.

I think I told you. I have this...

...patient who is obsessed with it. He reads it and reads it and reads it.

It's the only thing he talks about.

I don't know.

I was curious.

It's interesting

how someone supposedly healthy can be obsessed

with wanting to be sick,

to be looked after,

to evade the world...

That's good because there are guys that are extremely jealous.

I am the opposite. I am never jealous about anything.

Can you give me a drag?

After that he goes and jumps from a bell-tower.

And then he decides to get hit by car.

-We’ll all meet up there. -Ok.

And now finally sick of it he says to the girl: "I think I'm God".

-Who? -I don't know...

-Hi. -Let's go to the lake, then you all come?

-Yeah, let's go. -Ok?

Bye.

-Hi. -Hi.

-How are you? -Fine.

Ok, shall we go?

Why didn't you want to go on the "Top Spin"?

Were you scared?

-Oh my goodness! -Give him a kiss...

A friend of mine told me that a cousin of hers worked there last summer

and that she got extra money collecting the coins on the ground and the grass.

I don't know, I prefer the ground attractions.

"The tunnel of terror" for example.

I can't stand "The tunnel".

That ride really scares me.

It's not the height, it's the ideas I have in my head.

I like it.

I mean, I feel like I have more control.

I go with my feet touching the ground.

Doesn't annoy you that those dicks push you and shout in your ears?

Perhaps...

But actors that work there are funny, they do their job well.

You are also quite funny, did you know?

You are boring but funny.

At high school whenever I look at you, you seem a little absent.

Like in a mysterious way.

To me you only seem happy when you are playing basketball.

That's cool. You play well.

But I don't know. I always wonder why you don't talk to people more.

I understand that you are shy, I am shy too although you don't believe me.

But that is the very reason I talk nonstop.

This is my theory:

Shy people talk nonstop because we are afraid of silence.

So if my theory is correct, you are not strictly a shy person.

You are something else.

That's why you intrigue me.

I actually think you are quite sure of yourself.

Although you hide it.

-Also you don't have siblings, right? -No.

You are an only child. Like me.

They say only children are a bit more capricious and spoilt.

But that's not always the case.

My mum doesn't care what I do.

I get her attention when I've done something wrong. She tells me off.

She is the same with my dad.

But my father is a disaster in general.

He's great but he's a disaster.

Sometimes I think it would be better if they split up.

I don't know why they don't. I think it's because of me.

Sometimes I feel like saying: "Hey don't stay together for my sake".

-How do your parents get on? -They are separated.

-How cool! And how is that? -Well, I hardly ever see my father.

Right.

Shall we go?

Carlos says we look good together.

You and I?

Yes, you and I.

He told you too?

-Yes. -Yes?

Yes, more or less.

-More or less? -More or less.

It's been a cool day.

Yes.

I like talking to you.

And being here with you.

I like it too.

"I am writing to you during the break

because I don't feel like hanging out

and I have to hide it.

I prefer to be here thinking about us.

I want to tell you about a book I am reading.

It's one that my mother recommended

telling me that it's not really appropriate for my age,

that I will have to wait awhile.

Sometimes I think she does it on purpose, to annoy me,

because as soon as she says that I want to start reading it at that moment.

It's called A Suspension of Mercy, the author is Patricia Highsmith.

My mother has a lot of her books at home,

but this one attracted me because of the title.

The main character is called Sydney

and he lives in a house with his girlfriend, Alicia.

It's a detached house, in a village in England.

At the beginning they are happy in the house

but they don't have a lot of money and they live on very little.

Alicia is a painter but her paintings don't sell.

And Sydney can't manage to finish his novel

and can't sell the scripts he writes.

And at one point, Alicia decides to leave for a while.

It's assumed she will go back to her parents' house till things calm down,

but later it's not so clear.

What happens is that Alicia disappears, nobody really knows where she has gone.

Not even Sydney.

Then one night the unsettling idea of taking a rug from the house

and burying it in a forest nearby occurs to him.

It's quite strange because while he is carrying the heavy rug,

Sydney starts to imagine that rolled up in the rug

is Alicia's body.

Although I don't know if you like this type of story".

"The verse of one of my father's songs says:

Will they be able to repeat the words that lovers say

and speak them as if they had never been said before?

These words encompass the world

and the sky belongs to whoever speaks them.

That's why they cost you your life.

That's why they cost you your life.

We are always beginners.

We are always beginners and love is never-ending.

Hardships.

This is what it gives us.

Because nobody knows anything about their own love".

And now, when they are defeated, sitting face to face,

which of the two will dare to break the silence that envelops them?

She delves her gaze to the floor and he in her eyes, soul inside,

with the hope of reunion,

with the hope of reunion.

Lo and behold the prisoners of the eternal ceremony.

How incomprehensible their laws seem, how faded it remains in memory

In fact once I too bore that fire,

and I visited those same quarters

where I loved and sometimes was loved.

Where I loved and sometimes was loved.

We are always

beginners.

We are always beginners and love is never-ending.

Hardships.

This is what it gives us.

Because nobody knows anything about their own love.

-Yes? -Didn't go out?

-No, we are here. -I have to go. Your father is coming soon.

Ok, bye.

But... don't they mind that we are alone?

If you are 15 and you want to escape

that is enough and more to do it.

You could go before these city lights

turn off forever.

You can change your name for another that sounds better.

Finish with your lineage for once and for all.

You will write in your journal a new code of honour,

but always in verse, never in prose.

Who would stop you?

Who would stop you?

Who would stop you?

Nobody would stop you.

Who would stop you?

Who would stop you?

Who would stop you?

Nobody would stop you.

Nobody would stop you.

Nobody would stop you.

Yes I'm here. Hello.

How are you?

Fine and you?

-What are you doing? -I just got back.

-Yeah I know, I timed you. -And what have you been doing?

-Eating spaghetti. -How is it?

Cold.

I like hearing you eat.

Please, every day is the same.

Ok, I'm coming!

Are you still there?

Yes.

Do you love me?

I love you.

I love you lots.

"You want me to shut up? Ok, I will shut up.

but I am going to be a pain in the ass on paper. Ok?"

"I want you to shut up,

to leave me alone,

to stop looking at me, to stop talking to me,

although I will regret it".

"Shall we split up?

And everything?

Ok. Here ends our marvellous story.

If you are saying this as a joke take it back now or shut up forever".

"Before that I should tell you I have given you gonorrhoea.

And typhus. Excusez-moi.

And if my kisses were weak,

yours were disgusting and they made me retch.

I never told you but I closed my eyes to force myself not to vomit on you.

Respond to that!"

"I only wanted to tell you, I love you.

I want to spend the rest of my life with you.

Whatever happens. I want us to be together forever.

I can easily imagine myself at 80, sitting on a bench, next to you,

spending the afternoon together.

I can't imagine a future without you".

What's wrong?

Nothing.

It seems to me something is wrong.

I don't know what is wrong with me.

But... has something happened?

No, truly.

It's nothing.

Is it something I've said? Or have I done something to annoy you?

No, no honestly it isn't you.

It's me. I think...

I think... I don't know. Sorry.

"Forgive me for everything that happened before in the park.

I didn't want to worry you or act like that:

so idiotic and capricious.

Actually I wanted to tell you anything to calm you,

but the words wouldn't come. Not like other times.

I am sorry if I made you feel bad.

I love you too much. It's not my intention to do that to you.

It's just that I've been thinking about something and I don't know how to stop.

It's something I feel inside,

and it's hurting me.

It's something that has to do with us, with our love story,

with having met in this moment of our lives,

when we supposedly have so much ahead of us.

Laura asked me: "Do you really think that Olmo is the man of your life?".

And I didn't doubt for a second in answering: "Of course!".

After that I remembered what you wrote in the notebook,

that you couldn't imagine a future without me,

and that you could see yourself with me when you were 80.

I have to say that made a bit of an impression on me.

Actually, a lot.

I liked reading it, but at the same time it scared me.

It made me think about everything that means,

about what it means for you to have written that,

because I know you don't write the first thing that pops into your head.

What I want to tell you

is that I am scared of all the things we could lose from now on.

Because if our plan is to live together for the rest of our lives,

I think it will be difficult not to miss out on all those other things.

And I can tell that lots of things will happen.

Good and bad things.

Things that we can't control

and at times we won't be prepared for.

These things will come and they will make us stronger, that's all.

It's like the feeling I had with the story of Alicia and Sydney.

Although you see it another way,

I think Alicia left Sydney because she had to,

because she needed something else.

At some point we all need something more,

or simply stop needing something for a time,

don't you think?

Most probably with the passing of time

we will have the crazy sensation of returning here.

I think I am saying goodbye

so as not to make your life miserable,

so as not to make my life miserable,

thinking that this could've been a beautiful love letter.

That was its intention.

Not everything is as dark as I see it,

right?"

"I read your letter as soon as I arrived home,

just like you asked.

It was strange because in someway I knew what I would find inside.

Although it seems like a sad letter, I don't think it is.

Like everything you give me, it has something of a challenge or bet

because you believe in me and in us.

You ask me if I believe in destiny

and I think I do.

Actually I believe I have never asked myself that before,

but since you appeared in my life I can only believe in the luck I have

and I am only worried about losing it.

I think that something similar happened to you,

and this is what you wanted to tell me in the letter.

But we know something older people aren't able to know.

Not even us when we are older.

The important thing is to believe in us now

because that will give us strength in the future.

We could imagine this future, when we are 30, for instance,

twice our age now,

we will be different, as we'll have been through many things.

Maybe we will have lost our luck,

but we'll always be able to get it back if we keep something of ourselves now.

I think what you see as dark is life that hasn't happened yet,

like a tunnel you have to cross.

Once across light will surely return.

It's a little scary because you don't know what's inside.

There will be all sorts I am sure, good things and bad like you said.

You know I like to imagine things.

I DON'T THINK WE HAVE MET IN THE WRONG MOMENT,

I THINK WE HAVE MET IN THE BEST MOMENT OF OUR LIVES...

I WILL NEVER FORGET YOU.

SO... I WANT YOU TO KNOW

THAT YOU WILL ALWAYS FIND ME IN THIS MOMENT.

THE RECONQUEST

If you are 15 and you want to escape,

that is enough and more to do it.

You could go before these city lights

turn off forever.

You can change your name for another that sounds better,

finish with your lineage for once and for all.

You will write in your journal a new code of honour

but always in verse, never in prose.

Who would stop you, who would stop you,

who would stop you: nobody would stop you.

Who would stop you, who would stop you,

who would stop you: nobody would stop you.

Nobody would stop you.

Nobody would stop you.

You’d take the road that runs far from the sidewalk,

the one the unrepentant ones take.

You might see in things things you couldn’t see before

and even awake you’d be asleep.

Seasons will pass and you will forget to speak,

you will forget your own memory.

Inspired in the brave with the same dignity,

like he who cuts a rose you could melt in the ground.

But one never decides.

But one never decides.

But one never decides.

A man never decides. However:

Who would stop you, who would stop you,

who would stop you: nobody would stop you.

Who would stop you, who would stop you,

who would stop you: nobody would stop you.

FILMED IN MADRID