Original subtitles

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My name is Sophie.

I write novels for a well-known editor.

I am on vacation now.

Just recently I was too exhausted to write anything.

That’s how I decided to close myself to the outer world.

I went to my summer house to start writing a new book.

Summer, nature, and solitude. This is what I need now.

As well as new experiences, of course.

Yes, Mom. I am at the place. Everything is fine.

No, I am on my own. No boyfriends.

Yes, I want to be alone. No, I haven‘t forgotten.

Yeah, I have it with me.

I like being alone.

I just need to get the thing done.

This is business, just business.

Detective stories are what people devour like hot pies.

First someone kills someone.

Then everybody is looking for them.

Everything is simple.

The most important thing is to keep the rhythm and have more mystique.

Eroticism also works well. Or sex.

At least, there has to be a lot of naked body.

A gleaming printing press and a nice hardcover will

loom large in the horizon for a novel like that.

I think a couple of corpses and a naked girl should be just right.

In the morning you think that being alone is cool.

In the evening, you are gathering flowers

and are dreaming of a stranger in the bushes.

He will come out and a hot night will follow. No consequences whatsoever.

But in the morning, after you toy with yourself, you think: Who cares? Whatever.

It’s just fine on my own.

At lunchtime, when a neighbour came in to borrow a

garden shovel for flowers, I thought: Life is life.

Sex is exactly what I need after a morning tea on a hot sunny day.

I like sex.

It’s just that recently I haven’t felt anything. Nothing arouses me anymore

Sex became a bore.

I am lying. Someone is pushing his dick.

I have mixed feelings about it.

Whether you are a stuffed duck, or just a crazy hole for guys.

During the first ten seconds, as you take off your bikinis, it seems fun.

But then I just get carried away in my fantasies.

Recently they’ve become quite diverse.

I think... a couple of burnt corpses, many candles,

a house… frightening and horrible.

Many odours and pig hooves and snouts.

I wish I could live through what I write in my novels.

It would be simpler and somehow more honest.

Yes, Mom. I slept well.

No, no men. Yes, I am positive.

No.

You rummaged through my notebook?

This is my friend, so what?

Yeah, we’re just friends.

No. No. Yes. No, I don’t sleep with her. Yes, I’m sure.

Yes, I like men.

It’s none of your business!

Don’t you get into my personal life!

Yes, I know what ‘lesbians’ means.

It has nothing to do with you!

Mind your own business.

Milk... Much milk...

Why is it spilt?

I don't know.

But I like it.

Later they will think out the reason for spilt milk.

I’ll leave it like that for now.

A scared girl... a knife... a pair of scissors...

Many feathers...

A strange book...

Signs everywhere...

She’s so vulnerable and scared.

I want to save her, to defend her. Make her warm.

Her lips, red and chubby, half-open.

Her breasts, big and so easily injured.

Her areolas are big and dark, like cappuccino coffee foam,

tender and fragrant.

Blood... much blood...

Someone is writing with their finger.

A girl with a candle. Then she again, tender and lonely.

She lies motionless.

Has she been put to sleep? Or killed?

I don’t know yet.

But she’s so beautiful.

Then her lips again, long hair.

Her eyes are as dark as the night, alluring.

She’s lying.

She does not respond to him.

Serenity and silence.

She’s breathing softly, now heavily,

tenderly and deeply, and unforgettably sweet.

She’s like a flower that has fallen asleep.

Like fresh linen.

Like a river in the morning.

Aristophanus is a neighbour of mine.

A fat, bald and filthy guy.

No wife, children left him.

He drinks a lot.

Girls don’t fuck with him and he’s too stingy to pay.

That's why.

Cheap porn is all that awaits him in the evening.

I’m trying to tell him about me.

But he keeps staring at my tits and tries to look between my legs.

What colour is my bikini and how thinly shaven are my pubes?

Everything before sex is fun and drives me.

But everything during and after it is but a yesterday’s bore.

Yesterday I was too naïve to eat raw plums.

Today I have a constipation and a stomachache.

However cynical it is, a good anal sex is precisely what I need now.

Aristophanus is good for it.

His cock is small.

It will relax my rectum.

I listen to all this shit about how happy he is and what a superman he is.

But nobody fucks with him because he’s very spiritual, and well-read

and all women are just cheap bitches and whores who don’t deserve his attention.

After that he got where he’s got to be. In my ass.

While his mother was making apple-filled pancakes in the kitchen,

he successfully completed his mission filling me.

Oh, those raw plums!

As usual, at this moment, I immersed myself in my recollections and fantasies.

I always see this girl.

Perhaps I’m too hooked on her.

But I like describing her.

I feel and saturate her portrait with details.

I need some special details here.

Maybe blood-stained bones.

Or hands of the maniac.

Without a finger?

In dried blood.

Some zest would help a lot.

It would make the story stand out.

I’d like to liven up the scene so that it would take the breath away.

More emotions and feelings for her body and beauty.

Even if she’s a victim.

Even if she’ll have to die at the end of the novel and whisper her last goodbye.

The summer is warm, even hot.

No one interferes with my writing so I can delve into my thoughts.

There aren’t many people here.

So I can embrace my solitude and nature.

It was all crystal clear about raw plums and the relief came soon.

But I’ve got a lot of unresolved questions about the storyline!

I just don’t know what to do with it!

Maybe I should look for a new character.

Or just reread everything once again.

Two girls would be better, wouldn’t they?

They love each other... while guys are something extra.

People who they don’t really notice and don’t even want to get distracted by.

Can it be so?

Why not?

When two people love each other, other people just don’t exist for them anymore.

They just vanish.

Only you and her. Both of you.

You breathe love and proximity.

You get to know each other, better and deeper.

It’s so natural and simple. Like in nature.

I'm so tired. I 'm exhausted again.

A new search.

I'm on my own again and looking for something.

Whatever their sex or belief, skin colour, or age -

all what matters is love and the skill to be happy in this beautiful world,

under this boundless sky.

A sky that feels like velvet.

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