Original subtitles

So, I leave tomorrow morning at 8:10 from Los Angeles...

...and get to Zurich at 16:15...

on Flight 343 with Pan-American. Take this down!

16:15, Zurich time. Got that? - Yes, Dad!

Have you written it down? - Yes, Dad!

Don't be late, okay?

We only have half an hour to catch the connecting flight to...

Can you hear me?

I can't hear a thing! Hello? Hello?

Did you at least hear where we're going? - What did you say, Dad?

It doesn't matter. Actually, this way it'll be a surprise.

I didn't hear where we're going! - You'll like it, just wait and see.

I've rented a house for a month. Can you hear me?

I can hear you now.

A nice long vacation! - A month, Dad!

What's the weather like there? - Cold, there's still snow.

It's raining here.

What did you say, Dad? - Hello, can you hear me?

Hello? - I can't hear a thing!

The fact is this:

That tiredness isn't proportional to the time spend traveling...

but to the distance traveled. I mean to say...

I'm not tired from the 14 hours spent in a plane from Los Angeles to Zurich...

but I'm tired from the 10,000 km that I've traveled.

14 hours in a car is much less tiring.

14 hours on a horse at a trot isn't tiring at all.

So, tiredness relates to space, not time.

1,000 km/h is an in human velocity.

14 hours sitting on a plane is as exhausting as traveling for a week.

In fact, I'm now as worn out as though I've been traveling for week.

What was it, a DC-9? - Yes, it was a great flying shack.

Already quite dirty...

with stains on the seats...

and worn out floors...

Aeroplanes get old quickly, even quicker than cars do...

but while when a car gets old you can simply buy a new one...

the companies don't spend billions to replace old aeroplanes...

and they keep them flying until they fall.

Are there cemeteries for planes, as there are for cars? No...

sooner or later, they all fall.

But I'm talking and talking...

and you stay silent.

I'm listening to you.

You've nothing to say?

With regards to what?

To anything.

It's hot.

Right.

If you're tired, you can sleep.

I've always liked sleeping in the sun.

I'm 62 years old, and you're 15.

15 goes into 62... four times.

15 times 4 is 60...

and add 2.

2... what?

"What does your father do?"

He's a entomologist, studies butterflies...

actually Lepidoptera, as he says.

"And when he's not studying Lepidoptera, what does he do?"

He spends time with his son, or pretends to spend time with his son.

That's me.

In 10 years, I'll be 72...

that's if I'm still around.

And you'll be 25.

In they year 2000, you'll be 44...

and to be my age, let's see...

you'll be my age in 2018.

What are you writing? - Words.

What words? - A name.

What name?

Yours.

And yours; your name is Giacomo, too.

"On the shattered floor of the circular hall...

forensic scientists stoop to look for clues:

the fragment of a zip, a splinter of metal..."

"A shred of clothing, covered in blood."

What did you say?

Nothing. I didn't say anything, I was reading the newspaper.

"The Republic is stronger, an attempt has been made to overthrow the..."

Why does he run away like that?

If he runs, perhaps I should run after him...

What now? - The motor is broken.

Good! - It's far from good!

I don't know how to swim, neither do you.

We don't know how to swim, but we know how to talk.

What do you mean?

That the motor is humouring all our unspoken desires.

Now we're here, in front of each other...

and we can't run away.

Wouldn't it be better to fix the motor?

Do you know what "feedback" is?

It's a machine that runs itself.

It's the first principle of all modern machines...

the base of automation, of electronic brains.

Well, nature is the most perfect of all these machines...

and man is part of the natural world.

If the boat's motor is broken, clearly it's broken to put...

in front of each other once and for all, father and son!

It's time for confessions...

or, if you'd prefer a more secular term, "confidences".

Alright, I'm waiting. - You should be cooperating!

You can't say: "I'm waiting"!

What do you want to talk about? - Everything!

Everything seems a bit much.

Can we really not find a way to establish a dialogue between us?

After all, you're my son and I'm your father.

You say it with such enthusiasm.

I only meant that we should be able to start a conversation.

I'm afraid it might be impossible. - We're talking now, aren't we?

Without saying a thing!

Perhaps it would be best if one asks questions and the other answers.

I have to play the professor here, too? - You are a professor.

But I'm your father, too.

We're still opening our mouths without saying a thing.

Alright, let's give this interview method a go.

Question: Tell the truth, am I so disagreeable? - No, why?

Not even nice?

Indifferent, then?

Good, I see.

We should change the subject. Let's see...

Do you smoke yet? - Occasionally.

I'd prefer it if you stopped, smoking is bad at your age.

At yours, too. - You're right!

Good, now it's your turn. - No, that's enough.

It was a mistake. - What?

It's a struggle for both of us, it's not a vacation...

and we still have 3 weeks to fill.

If you ask me, it would be better if we just gave up. - What do you mean?

I'll go back to boarding school, and you... you'll find something to do.

Anything is better than staying here. - I'm very happy here, thank you!

Even right now, I'm very happy!

I'm having lots of fun! I'm here with my son and I'm happy!

I'm not.

Now what are you doing? - Swimming back to shore.

But you don't know how to swim. - I'll learn.

Please, stop it, don't be foolish!

If you jump in, I'll have to follow you.

I'll have to save you!

You're forgetting that you don't know how to swim, either.

If you wanted to demonstrate your intolerance of me...

you've done an excellent job! You don't need to jump in!

You could at least thank me, after all I saved your life.

Or maybe it's me who saved you.

You can get a lot closer to reality with a microscope...

than with a telescope.

That's if reality exists.

Anyway, it's always worth combing the area of investigation thoroughly.

50cm of sand can contain more major surprises...

than an entire continent covered with a distracted eye.

It all depends on how hard you look.

So, you're not interested in what I'm telling you? - No.

Why not? - I'm not interested in beetles...

and if you must know it, I'm not interested in butterflies either.

Just think, there are people who go to Africa to hunt lions!

Sorry, but how exciting can that be, to find yourself facing...

the same old lion every time?

Our hunting is much more fun!

How satisfying can that be, to chase a single animal...

follow a single possibility?

We, on the other hand, at least in theory, have 800,000...

that's the mount of insect species that have been cataloged. 800,000!

Quite the difference, I'd say!

Here, do you want to have a look?

There's a bunch of interesting things to see.

What are you saying, that I'm an insect?

That you think of me as an insect?

That could be considered a compliment, you know.

The lesson is over.

As is this vacation, it would seem.

You're right, it would be better to recognise it as a failure...

or even better, that I'm a failure as a father.

Or that I'm a failure as a son.

Anyway, together we're a failure.

We can go back to the house and pack our suitcases.

Look! What's that down there?

It looks like a body. - It wasn't there before.

Let's go and take a look.

She's breathing!

She's alive!

We have to do something!

Let's take her home.

Alright.

Perhaps we should call someone. - Who? - I don't know.

A doctor, the police... - Why the police?

It might be something bad, a suicide!

How old do you think she is? - 16, 17. - So young?

Maybe 20.

I can't see her. - She's groaning.

No, that's me, she's heavy. - She's groaning, too.

What are her eyes like?

Dark, I think.

No, I mean open or closed. - Ah, she opened them for a moment.

And then? - And then she closed them again. - She's heavy!

They say that a dead body weighs more than a live one.

But she's not dead!

Hold on...

Try to keep her legs up!

She's moaning, she's in pain!

Pain is a sign of life.

Come on, let's change approach. You take that end!

It's too much of an effort for a man of my age...

and a boy like you. - But together...

we make a normal man.

But now we should be quiet, otherwise we'll get more tired.

Damn, she's so heavy! How much must she weigh?

The weight is the resultant gravitational force exerted...

on all the molecules of a body.

But weight can also mean "load", "bundle", "burden", "responsibility"...

It'll become a burden, this bundle.

This body will be a responsibility.

If she weighs 50kg, that's like carrying four big suitcases...

two for him, two for me. But I'm sure she weighs more!

Featherweight, flyweight, middleweight, heavyweight. Weight, or "peso".

Peso, the currency of Mexico, Argentina, Chile, Uruguay, Paraguay...

"La Cumparsita", bullfighting, tango...

Antonio Vargas Heredia, The Gypsy.

The Sahara, an area of desert. 8 million square kilometers...

that extends into Northern Africa...

from the Atlantic to the Nile.

Mineral-rich subsoils. Potassium salts and phosphates...

zinc and antimony...

copper, manganese, petroleum, uranium, platinum and diamonds.

Let's take these clothes off, they're soaking wet...

It's so bright in here!

What can we do?

Wait for her to wake up, stay by her side in the meantime.

What if she dies? - She won't die now.

She's still so pale! - Less than before.

Shall we call a doctor? - No.

"Now I have seen the shining morning star...

That comes before the day awakes the dawn...

It seems the brightest in the sky, by far...

And has assumed the shape of a human form.

Its face resembles snow but tinged with red...

so gay and full of love, with shining eyes...

I think there is no Christian girl yet bred...

so full of beauty, such a sovereign prize."

The Oleander Sphinx Moth.

The Deilephila Daphnis Nerii is the most illustrious of migratory moths.

The wings present a coloration pattern of green and brown.

It can be seen in Southern Europe between May and September.

Its habits are nocturnal.

It lives on the oleander, periwinkle and cornel flowers.

It invades beehives and feeds on honey.

Sorry?

What did you say?

My Sphinx, Daphnis, my Maiden...

O Virgin, O Lady Callimorpha...

You wish to fly away from here so soon?

For you, I will pillage a beehive.

I will feed you on honey.

"A woman passes across my mind...

her sleeping form warms my heart.

So tender and tall is she...

the being that ignites my love...

her soul, it lays beside me...

its goodness, pure as a dove...

amazes and frightens thee...

my heart, it trembles thereof...

spreads its aching wings to flee...

and says: 'He goes to the land above.'"

"The butterfly is not pursued...

but waited for at the point of transit or while it grazes.

Once a specimen is caught, put the net away from the light...

and identify its position.

Wait until the wings are closed...

and seize the thorax between thumb and forefinger...

apply a light amount of pressure...

so as to paralyze and impede any other movements...

that might damage the specimen."

Do you think she tried to drown herself? - Well, I don't know.

Perhaps she took sleeping pills, or something else.

Either way, she wanted to die, or at least pretend to want to die.

Why?

I don't know.

We saved her. - Yes.

She wanted to die? - Yes.

Why?

I don't know. - We don't know anything.

She's sick!

Don't be afraid, it's okay! We're here for you.

Get a bowl of water an a towel!

Get a bowl of water and a towel...

Was it me, or someone else who just said those words?

Bowl of water? Towel?

And yet there are no other ways to express oneself...

when faced with such a corporeal situation.

There's no need for metaphors, they only disrupt the action.

I wouldn't want this girl to die because of a metaphor.

She's better. - Are you sure? - I am now.

We'll have to wash her.

We'll put a wet cloth on her forehead. It'll do her good, I think.

A wet cloth...

Of course, a wet cloth is a wet cloth.

It's no purple mantle or Andalusian shawl...

which would only be inadequate to the contingent necessity.

Her pulse is normal!

She's coming around!

She's thirsty!

We shouldn't give her anything to drink, it might do her harm.

Let's try and lift her wings, perhaps it will give her relief.

I said "wings" instead of arms.

So I've arrived at a metaphor with a mere slip of the tongue.

And I may imagine her as a butterfly again.

She's better. - Yes, she's getting there.

She only needs to rest.

Like us.

We'll have to buy her some clothes.

You talk as though she has to stay with us.

Without us, she'd be dead.

She might even reproach us for saving her life.

We'll buy her a bathing suit and some trousers.

I don't like trousers. - I do.

Freud said that every suicide is a misdirected homicide.

I wonder who she wanted to kill.

All we have to do is wait for her to wake up, tomorrow she'll tell us.

Then we'll also know why she wanted to died.

We'll know everything about her, we'll talk to her...

Meanwhile, we're talking as well.

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you...

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

Giacomo! Giacomo!

She woke up, she's talking!

How are we doing, better?

I don't understand.

And she doesn't understand us.

Perhaps she's still tired. - Or hungry. I say she's hungry.

What language is that, what is she saying?

We should at least be able to work out what she's thinking.

She's probably hungry, maybe thirsty.

But for the rest, it will be difficult to communicate with her.

If you know your way around 800,000 species of insects...

you should be able to classify a foreign girl.

I don't understand a word!

Not even the linguistic root, I mean.

Perhaps it's Basque, or Finnish...

Or Lebanese, Syrian...

Flemish, Polish! - Montenegrin! Circassian!

Algerian! Or Moroccan! - Afrikaans! Afghan!

Lithuanian! Albanian! Armenian!

Little by little we'll learn her tastes, her customs...

her habits, all it requires is patience and observation...

just like with butterflies.

But the unknown remains:

who she is, where she's from...

what she's thinking, what she thinks of us...

what her intentions are, her plans for the future.

And yours?

When I'm on vacation, I never make plans.

But you're smiling.

I feel good, I'm happy.

For the first time since you got here.

Yes, you're right...

it would be useless to continue circling the topic at hand.

By that, you mean the girl? - Yes.

If you ask me, it's a mistake...

for both of us to be around her at all times. - What do you propose?

After all, I saw her first...

and I'm the one who said that we should take her home.

Where she arrived on my shoulders. - But she's sleeping in my bed.

Why don't we stop arguing and try to find an agreement?

Which would be?

We'll share her.

You can stay with her in the day, and I'll take over in the evening.

I'm not sure.

Why would you be unsure? The proposal seems reasonable.

Right...

But perhaps she would prefer to stay with me.

With you! But, you're still a boy.

You're too old for her.

And you're too young.

When you say "in the evening", what do you mean?

You get the light, I the dark. - So you mean at night, too.

I chose the dark and night not out of malice, as you think...

but out of modesty, for the shame of my years.

I hope that the dark will help me to overcome it.

Where did you go?

You had us worried, you know?

Don't tire yourself out, Dad. Leave that, I'll do it.

Still here, Dad?

It's daytime, don't you see that it's still light?

Near the tail, two filaments can be seen...

that are pinkish in colour.

Instinctively, the insect shakes these filaments...

Instinctively, the insect shakes these filaments to and fro...

and in doing so, impedes certain small parasites...

known as ichneumon that land on its back...

and look to lay their eggs under its skin.

The Lepidoptera...

The Lepidoptera...

Lepidoptera...

The butterfly...

The butterfly...

The butterfly, the butterfly...

As the most sensitive creatures, of all those to exist...

like soft green grass over a yawning abyss...

The plants on high stalks, entwined in valleys high...

And trees with their robust trunks, a nest for the butterfly...

No, that's not possible!

Well, it's not true!

Look at yourself, and be ashamed!

Do you know what you've just written, at your age?

A poem.

Me? Me, a poem?

Yes, a poem.

A poem...

A nest for the butterfly...

For the butterfly...

A nest for the butterfly...

Now we can leave, tell me where you want to go.

Right, left, towards the sea or the mountains...

the North, the South...

near or far, up or down...

Just give me a sign, since we can't understand each other.

Though you must give me a sign...

otherwise the car won't move.

Do you know what "feedback" is? No?

I'll admit that I don't know either.

I don't even know if it relates here.

Though one thing is sure:

The car move, only if we want to go.

But you have to want it, too.

Go on, close your eyes.

It can be an advantage, not speaking the same language...

not understanding each other.

You avoid justifications, gloomy confessions...

the pitfall of regret...

"Ah, if I'd met you 20 years ago!"

20 years ago, when you weren't even around, didn't exist yet...

Because you... how old must you be?

18 years old, 19, 20?

20 years ago...

Besides, words are only used to fill up the silence...

the fear of silence, and all our other fears.

We talk when we're not really living.

And now let's go and eat. Do you know what "eat" means?

It means eat. "Eat" means eat.

I can say something foolish without being embarrassed...

and I'm not obliged to be intelligent or interesting.

Do you know what "love" means?

"Love" means love.

And "love", what does it mean? It means love.

My darling...

I've never called anyone "darling" in my whole life...

and my life is already 62 years long.

Thanks, I'll choose.

Seafood salad, grilled sea bass, and a mixed salad.

And a bottle of Riesling. - And for dessert?

I don't know, we'll see later. - Very good, Sir.

Words... That's what words are for:

To order a dinner.

I hope you like it, at least.

Do you realise how informally I'm speaking to you?

I can do it, of course, because you don't understand me.

This, too, facilitates our relationship.

I can speak to you informally, and tell you everything I want to. Everything!

I can even allow myself to be ridiculous.

Besides, you can't judge me.

You don't say a word, don't speak...

And I don't know if you're intelligent or not.

Besides, what does it matter if you're not intelligent?

Do you know what Baudelaire said?

Baudelaire... Do you know this name?

Bau-de-laire.

Bau... - Bau...

De... - De...

Laire... - Laire...

Alright, then no Baudelaire, no "Artificial Paradises"...

no "Flowers of Evil"...

Can I tell you something?

Of course, I can tell you anything.

I wrote a poem too, you know. A poem on butterflies.

And do you know why I wrote it? Because of you, it's your fault!

"Your fault"? Why did I say "your fault"?

But of course! How could I forgive myself for writing a poem?

How could I forgive you?

In fact, I won't forgive you.

I shall pierce you with a pin.

Put you behind glass...

Touch you...

Yes, can I touch your hair?

No, no you can't.

Even gestures become old, ridiculous...

When I was younger, I had the absurd pretense...

of wanting to change people.

But today, I must change.

And the undertaking is yet more absurd and difficult.

Do you know what you are to me?

What you could become?

A body...

to feed in the correct manner, to dress with elegance...

to protect...

nurture...

Please, have a seat. - Shall we sit over there?

Thank you.

Words...

I have nothing but word to show you...

to try to show you...

Words are the only weapon I have...

But with you, words are useless.

The only thing that counts is that which you can see...

and that which you can see, here or there...

is the same ignoble thing.

We'll have to reach an agreement.

What do you mean, an agreement? Aren't we already in agreement? - No.

It was a mistake to share her, we have to stick together...

to unite so as not to lose her.

Taken individually, we're two fragments, two nothings...

Let's really look at ourselves: I'm nothing but an old man...

and you're a rickety young boy.

Of all the things a girl could possible want from a man...

all I have to offer is memory, all you have is hope.

I kissed her.

And you?

We have to distract her, come up with something...

try to entertain her.

How?

We could take a boat ride. - And if the motor breaks down?

This time it won't break down. - Remember that we can't swim.

We have to think about her.

She must fall in love with us...

suffer for us...

or at least with us...

How?

I don't know, but I have the feeling she will escape us.

I don't know what, but we must do something...

something challenging, serious, compromising, and definitive...

and I feel we must do it together...

we must get used to the silence.

At the beginning it can disorientate...

create a kind of void around you, isolating you from the world...

but in the end you find yourself in another dimension entirely.

But if you talk, there won't be any silence.

You're right!

Every word is like a noise that soils the air.

And yet you keep talking!

I'm sorry, I can't manage to be quiet. I have to talk...

I have to comment on everything.

It's like we are already remembering her!

I didn't say it's like we're missing her, that would be different!

This champagne, for example, is wonderful!

It's a shame we have no oysters, or at least some seafood...

it would be perfect.

It's hot!

Just like that, so suddenly? - It always gets hot suddenly.

It's the same with cold, first it isn't and then suddenly it is.

Right now, for example, I'm suddenly hungry.

I'm thirsty.

Suddenly, I want to laugh.

Suddenly, I want to do a forward roll!

I feel like sleeping.

But, then...

That's impossible! - And yet you said "seafood"...

and she dove right in, how do you explain that?

We're becoming like termites.

You know the white ants, that communicate telepathically?

There are three of us...

but we could even sustain the form of a single organism.

Besides, three is the perfect number. It recurs in all the fables...

in all the magic spells, in all the religions!

Even in Eden there were three of them: Adam, Eve and the serpent!

And God?

"Whatever your hand finds to do...

do it with all your might, for there is neither working...

nor planning, nor knowledge...

there is no wisdom in the grave where you are going."

I kissed her, and you?

And you?

Me, too.

Ecstasy, bliss, devastation...

mere words are no longer enough...

this is a state of music.

Now what will I do? Nothing.

The future is an imaginary time, and I can no longer imagine anything.

When is it that the mind stops thinking...

stops reflecting and imagining?

When is it that, that...

She's never been out without us, without at least one of us!

She needed us before.

And now we need her.

We'll find her. - What if she ran away?

We'll find her all the same.

Don't think about it anymore, don't imagine it...

repeat to yourself that she's not there, she doesn't exist, embrace the silence...

the emptiness, the absence...

It had to happen...

There she is!

They're talking!

They're talking together.

They understand each other.

He's young.

He's the right age.

What's she saying?

She's saying that you're nice, you have a nice house...

and you must love each other. - What else?

That you're almost like father and son.

But how do you understand each other? What language is that?

Where do you come from? Have you known each other long?

I don't like questions, and I have things to ask you as well.

We have nothing to hide. - Are you sure about that?

Why are you leaving?

Do you think we have some reason to stay here?

Perhaps you think your presence is sufficient enough? - No, no.

We can't just let them go.

You're right, we can't.

You can do nothing but look at her.

You look at her, you like looking at her.

Every part of her body becomes an appendage...

a derivation of the look.

You concentrate everything on her...

excluding all else from your field of view...

as though there were nothing else to look at.

You look at her, you like looking at her.

You look at her, you like looking at her.

Every part of her body becomes an appendage...

a derivation of the look. You concentrate everything on her...

excluding all else from your field of view...

as though there were nothing else to look at.

You look at her, you like looking at her.

She's with him.

We shouldn't have put them in the same room.

Let's go.

Between pain and nothingness, I choose pain.

Me, too.

Are you hungry? - And you?

We've almost finished the provisions. - They eat a lot!

They're young - And in love.

They're arguing.

Listen to her scream!

She could never last with a guy like him!

She's crying.

Come on, let's throw him out!

Get out of here! - Go on, get out! - It's your fault, get out of here!

If no one wants you here, you can't stay. Go on!

Get up, move! You've no business here! - Go on!

She doesn't want you here! - Get out of here, right now!

We're sick of you, and so is she!

Come on, move it! Get out of here! - Hear that? Go away!

That every curse falls on your heads...

that your blood dries to dust...

that your eyes see the light no more...

that your skin becomes scaly like a snake...

that fire devours your tongue...

that your teeth fall out one by one...

that scabies torments you day and night...

that scabies torments you day and night...

They're beautiful.

Yes, they're beautiful even when they're sleeping.

God, I hope they both drop dead!

They're very beautiful.

She's beautiful, he's beautiful.

They're beautiful together.

I'll shove a pole up both their asses!

No, just his.

That they are swallowed up by the sea, that they become hairless...

that they are forced to eat shit...

that they are impaled on a spike and left to rot in the sun...

that they are skinned and immersed in alcohol...

that their mouths are filled with soil...

That they are swallowed up by the sea, that they become hairless...

that they are forced to eat shit...

that they are impaled on a spike and left to rot in the sun...

that they are skinned and immersed in alcohol...

that their mouths are filled with soil...

That they are swallowed up by the sea, that they become hairless...

that they are forced to eat shit...

that they are impaled on a spike and left to rot in the sun...

that they are skinned and immersed in alcohol...

that their mouths are filled with soil...

If I see her, I'll be depressed.

If I don't see her, I'll be depressed all the same.

If I see him, I'll be depressed.

If I don't see him, I'll be depressed all the same.

If I see both of them, I'll be twice as depressed.

If I don't see them, I'll be depressed all the same.

If something doesn't make sense, what's the use in thinking about it?

What something?

The one you're thinking about.

How did you know that? - I know, because I'm thinking the same.

When you think about something too much, you usually end up doing it.

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! God, how I hate you!

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!

I hate you! God, how I hate you!

I hate you, I hate you!

I hate you, I hate you!

What are you looking for in here?

And you? - Nothing in particular.

I was having a look around.

Now we can go out. - No, now we can stay!

If you were looking for something, we'll look for it together.

There's nothing special in here. - We'll find something...

something that could be useful to us.

Please, let's get out of here. - No, let's stay here, together.

And if there's something to be done, we'll do it together.

Let's not do anything, please. - But you were about to.

I changed my mind. - I didn't!

I would have liked to have had a sporty son.

I think I already told you that. - Yes, you already told me that.

If you like, there's still time for me to learn some sports...

unless it's swimming, I'll never be confident in the water.

Me neither.

It must be hereditary.

If it's any consolation, we're more confident together.

We don't even need to talk.

We're like the two termites, communicating telepathically.

This wasn't what I had in mind when I was thinking of what...

the two of us could do together.

But this is still something...

and we did it together. - Yes.

Giacomo and Giacomo.

Didn't you quit?

Now I'm starting again. - Me, too.

You're too small to smoke. - Are you sure?

It would be better not to watch, my head is too weak...

for this continuous dizziness.

Isn't she more beautiful like this? Well, what do you say? Isn't she?

We're here.

This is the ocean floor.

Why did you take your glasses off? - So as not to see.

Conor, conaris, conatus sum, conari...

Imitor, imitaris, imitatus sum, imitari...

Sequor, sequeris, secutus sum, sequi...

Loquor, loqueris, locutus sum, loqui...

Blandior, blandiris, blanditus sum, blandiri...

Adorior, adoriris, adon'tus sum, adoriri...

Morior, moreris, mortuus sum, mori...

Hortor, hortaris, hortatus sum, hortari...

Largior, largiris, largitus sum, largiri...

Saturnia pavonia, Nyssia florentina, Timandra amata...

Intrusa, Cedronella...

Hadena confusa, Leucania pallida, Medusa, Macroglossa...

Egeria, Eufrosine, Ermione...

Argo azzurro, Argo bronzato, Argo celeste...

Comitor, comitaris, comitatus sum, comitari...

Meditor, meditaris, meditatus sum, meditari...

Vereor, vereris, veritus sum, vereri...

Experior, experiri, expertus sum, experiri...

Eromene bella, Papilio priamus...

Hibernia defoliaria, Vanessa variegata...

Blood drop, Stripping moth...

Vanessa atalanta, Thecla betulae Venilia maculiaria...

Loquor, loqueris, locutus sum, loqui...

Blandior, blandiris, blanditus sum, blandiri...

Sequor, sequeris, secutus sum, sequi...

Morior, moreris, mortuus sum, mori...

Orthosia cruda, Orthosia gracile, Orthosia gothica...

Agrotis fidanzata, Clorissa verde, Thecla whitethorn...

Selenia bilunaria, Aglaia mother-of-pearl...

I watch her suffer.

It is a suffering that doesn't touch me, doesn't belong to me.

I can only observe the curious changes in her face...

asking myself if this is the way I'll remember it...

deformed by a pain that I don't know.

Or perhaps I will forget everything: the changes in her face...

her pain, as well as her.

Remembering requires strength...

and these days I've used all mine.

We didn't go out with the boat today.

No, Dad, we didn't go out.

Why would we go out with the boat? We don't know how to swim.

Of course, Dad.

Tomorrow we're leaving, and you are coming with me. - And her?

She will come with us.

And her?

She will come with us.

And her?

She will come with us!

And if she doesn't want to? - Why wouldn't she want to?

She's happy with us. - And we're happy with her.

I'm happy to have a son like you.

And I'm happy to have a father like you.

No more boarding school.

From now on, we'll always be together, perhaps in America...

if they give me that post in California.

If you want, I can get used to taking my glasses off. - No, it's not worth it.

I like you the way you are...

you look like me. - We share the same ideas...

we like the same things...

the same people...

We don't know how to swim.

We don't like boat trips.

In fact, we've not moved from here.

If something were to happen, it's nothing to do with you...

you don't know anything. - No, Dad! We're together.

We did it together.

What did we do? - Nothing.

Nothing.

That's it, nothing.

Are you afraid?

Are you afraid? - No, Dad, I'm not afraid.

Now come.

Come and sit here.

Come.

Close your eyes.

Are you afraid?

No, Dad.

Close your eyes. - Yes.

Rest now.

Yes, Dad.

Please, try to sleep. - Yes.

Sleep now.

Yes...

There.