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Before I forget

We'll be in peace. You'll stop making scenes.

And the pigeons won't shit on us. There are no trees.

That's true.

You can watch the people go by.

Who is it?

The bailiff for Didier Fromand.

- What's it about? - Parking tickets.

His address is care of Mr Pierre Pruez. Am I in the right place?

He's left, he's in Switzerland.

Do you have his new address?

He left m e a m o nth ag o. I'm very unhappy.

Sorry.

He pisses me off with his tickets!

I'm b ad ly p arked, there was no space.

It's the road works.

Let's go?

Close the door, please.

I'm not doing well.

Get on your knees.

Suck me.

Lick.

Lick, I said.

Lick my balls.

There...

Deeper.

Deeper, I said!

I'm suffocating.

Suck gently.

Jerk me off with your hand.

Faster.

You like that!

You like big cocks.

Yes.

Yes, who?

Yes, master.

I'm your master, hey?

- Say I'm your master. - Yes, master.

Get on all fours.

On the carpet. Like a bitch.

It burns, Marc.

Get on all fours, on the carpet.

No cream, I don't like it to slide.

Get on all fours, I said.

Go gently, Marc.

- It hurts. - Shut up, bitch.

And call me master.

Go on, squeal.

Squeal like a girl.

I can't, Marc...

Take a high voice.

Take a high voice, like a girl.

Next time I'll bring my girlfriend's panties.

Go on, squeal!

You like cocks, hey? Here!

I want to be your pimp. I'll take your money.

You have to take me to your place, dressed as a woman.

You'll get jumped like a bitch.

- Tell me, "Yes, master." - Yes, master.

You like them! You like cocks, hey?

Here, move on your side.

We have to stop.

I can't keep going.

I can't. I can't come.

I came differently. I take too many pills.

I think we know each other too well.

Next time I'll bring two friends.

I don't think I'd dare.

I talked to them, they agreed.

They're safe, you can trust me.

We'll see.

Want an orange juice?

Not too cold.

I want to go to that place.

With my moustache, I'd need a veil.

Shave it.

I'd never dare.

But I can take you, it's busy Saturdays.

You'll make a splash.

I'll call you Saturday.

Here.

It's barely cool, want ice?

No, that's fine.

- It's great here. - May as well be.

At my age, apart from money problems, I'm doing fine.

Know how much they want in taxes?

400,000 francs.

400, 000 in back taxes. I don't understand.

You spend a lot.

Think so?

Oh, you do!

I don't know how others manage.

And I earn a good living.

It's a vicious circle. More you earn, more you pay.

I'll have to work back-to-back. I don't know how you manage.

I don't work and I own my home.

You don't pay rent.

Mine's 30,000 francs. It goes fast.

And Maria comes every day.

And the gigolos.

Don't even go there! I've cut down.

- How much do you pay? - 100 euros.

That's standard. And sometimes I give more.

I just found one. Know how much I pay?

Guess a price.

80 euros?

Lower.

Sixty?

Lower.

Fifty?

Yes.

Introduce me?

Want me to?

- Big cock? - Like that!

I've stopped doing anything. I sublimate.

You're lucky.

Over time, I've just got greedier.

We don't share the same past.

Right now, I mostly need affection.

I don't know how you manage to stay alone.

Up until now it was fine.

But now, I must admit...

I have Serge.

I admire you.

I couldn't. I'd rather be alone.

How do you stand him?

Sometimes I wonder.

But it's my cross to bear. I'd rather not talk about it.

We'll just argue again.

You're practical, I'm not. You can cook...

I find it more and more difficult.

I like eating alone at home. You can't do that.

Sometimes I do.

Can I light that?

Yesterday, after a tough day,

I came home at midnight.

Know what I made?

I had nothing to eat. I made fromage blanc.

With yoghurt, jam and lots of sugar.

I ate it with an old piece of bread. It wasn't fun.

You could eat out.

At midnight?

In Paris there are places open.

Where?

You know there are restaurants open at midnight!

Alone, like a wretch?

You look fine.

Stop it!

You still have your hair.

Yes, I'm lucky. But I think I've aged.

You look fine.

Even Serge, who's no sweetheart, says the same.

I'm getting a stomach.

I was eating a sandwich downstairs, I saw a group of old men.

Our age.

We don't see how we are.

Got anyone new for me? I get bored of the same.

I'm not sure enough of them.

I do them on site,

in the booths.

That place you took me in Pigalle?

Next to the Sexodrome.

I can't, I'm claustrophobic.

- I couldn't stay. - You did one.

Quickly.

As far as fantasies go, it was exciting.

- The young Slavic boys still there? - Yes, forty euros.

Do you still see Marc? How much do you pay?

100 euros.

I pay 150. He's pushing it.

He's a funny one.

Wants to take me to Pigalle in drag.

Lucky you! Do it!

I won't dare.

Can I light that?

Still seeing your analyst?

Three times a week.

I keep telling you.

I never know if you're lying to me.

How much does he charge?

- 80 euros. - That's standard.

- How long is the session? - 45 minutes.

Mine are 10 minutes. Sometimes less.

Stops you getting maudlin. But I have to talk to him.

I started analysis to treat my claustrophobia.

I go every day and I've seen no change.

I've been invited to New York but I can't do the flight.

Leaving Paris is hell because of the tunnels.

Not to mention elevators!

If there was a big dick at the end, you'd manage.

Not so sure.

- What are you reading? - Don't lose my page.

"All My Friends" by Marie Ndiaye.

You should read "The Boys".

It's wonderful.

My great joy is to sit there and read.

You're lucky to like reading.

It's true, you lack that.

It's my best sleeping pill.

One page and I'm asleep.

Right now, I want nothing.

Nothing?

This will make you laugh.

You'll never guess what happened to me.

- I got the scare of my life. - What luck!

I'm not kidding.

I brought a Riot Squad officer home. Know what he did?

Put his gun to my head. His service weapon.

No!

Yes. I've never been so scared.

Imagine yourself with a gun to your head for 15 minutes?

I was terrified, you have no idea!

- Was it loaded? - Are you kidding?

Those are fears for queens.

Like the fags who dress up as Nazis for a thrill.

When I want a scare, I go to the projects. That's real.

Pasolini must have been scared. Still, it was a beautiful death.

You're nuts.

May I?

What time is it?

Don't worry, I'm going.

My cigarette.

- Where are you going? - Pigalle.

F or someone who doesn't want anything, you have willpower!

You seem in great shape.

It irritates me.

A philosopher who talks of stupidity is always suspect.

Who does he think he is?

As if by talking of imbeciles, one can exclude oneself.

As if stupidity is the only subject which doesn't apply to oneself.

How could stupidity be the exception to the rule it stems from?

Stupidity kills novelty as surely as routine kills love.

It is disappointed intelligence

which cannot understand life in depth, and so explains it in extenso.

Stupidity freezes movement,

transforms new ideas into received ideas,

aphorisms into proverbs, critica I thinking into sentimentality.

We see it in those who give lessons but don't act accordingly,

or in fervent hedonists,

whose orgasms serve to forget they're not happy.

Stupidity reduces the world to Oneself,

difference to identity, like a doctrinaire approach.

Stupidity chooses to recognize instead of meet.

I t is not the enemy of intelligence, but of disquiet.

Stupidity immunizes aga inst the suffering of others.

Stupidity doesn't think, but it's indispensable,

in the same way that men without courage shout a long with the crowd.

Stupidity allways ha s the last word,

it's allways right.

I ju st...

I shit my self. It's not funny.

I'm depressed, I'm going home.

Damn! A cop, I'll hangup.

Hello, sir. You know that's illegal?

I just shit myself, officer.

There.

The case is closed.

How much do I owe you?

Nothing.

I want you.

Shit!

I parked faster than expected.

Sorry, Georgoues. I'm early.

The documents.

Com e in. I'm n ot al on e, I'm with a cli nt you know.

Paul!

My God!

- You haven't changed. - You, neither.

Yeah, right!

- How long has it been? - 30 years.

That's a long time.

I've been in and out.

I heard you were out. Gaston told me.

You know he's dead?

I'm furious no one told me. I'd have gone to the funeral.

I thought you knew.

I never saw him.

We just talked on the phone.

So, you inherit?

The house in Corsica and the apartment?

All thanks to you.

You were sleeping with him, not me. That was 35 years ago.

- When did you get out? - Two years ago.

This is very nice, but my wife's waiting.

She's been waiting 40 years!

- What you doing now? - Nothing.

- Want to go for lunch? - Let's go.

Come on, boys.

Got the letters? With my lD, that should do.

Hush, the neighbors!

It's true, you've barely changed.

I work out.

I live near the Bois de Boulogne. I run every day.

- You, neither. - Cut the crap!

60 years is huge.

You don't look it. I give you 55.

Yeah, right!

I do nothing, I don't walk.

Haven't taken the subway in 20 years.

- What should we have? - Oysters and Sancerre?

It's funny to be here, 30 years later.

Thirty-three.

I was 17 when you introduced me to Gaston.

Seventeen?

You swiped a cheque from him.

I was a minor, no risk.

I often thought of you in jail.

19 years old, what a waste. The best years of my life.

Still, I got an education.

I took a BA and a Master's.

I read a lot.

Gaston sent me lots of books.

He was very happy you were in jail.

That way you belonged to him. He knew where you were.

It's all he knew. Guys who'd done time.

It's one of my fantasies to go to prison.

I'd have to kill a cop to get respect.

No lack of fucking. Georges keeps asking about it.

40 years he's been bored with his old lady.

Must excite him.

You inherit?

That's why I saw Georges.

- What will you do with the money? - Switzerland.

Georges has the schemes. I slipped in 3 million.

You weren't scared?

Gotta be careful.

I hid it in the spare tire.

That direction is easy. The other way is riskier.

For now, I don't need it.

Georges knows some nuns who can bring it over.

I live half the time in Brazil.

I have friends there. I can get money wired to Sao Paulo.

I'm going to buy a house. You'd be welcome.

Brazil is too noisy.

Teeming with youths.

I have a girl of 17... incredible.

You find anything you want.

Brothels of boys for 100 reals.

You're set for life.

I work a bit in slot machines.

Gives me money for here.

Slot machines?

It's legal.

Inspections to ensure we're not trafficking, but it's fine.

Brings in 7,000 euros a month.

50,000 francs, that's good.

I might need you.

I'll inherit from Toutoune.

You still see him?

It's been 35 years.

How old is he?

Same as Gaston.

Seventyfive.

Jealous as ever.

Actually, it's funny.

At least he loved me.

How's your daughter?

She's an air hostess. Haven't seen her much.

As beautiful as you?

Don't know. She favors me.

You were gorgeous.

We never slept together.

I should have gone to jail.

I have to go.

Make yourself comfortable, I'll be right there.

- Well? - I'm not doing well.

Well?

I'm alright.

I had lunch with a friend I hadn't seen in 30 years.

It was nice.

He was the gigolo of a former John of mine.

He works in slot machines.

Get the type?

He got a BA in jail.

At least prison's good for something.

I should have done time.

I would have read.

Know what my life's big regret will be?

That I never read the bible.

I swiped Toutoune's.

I read a bit of the New Testament.

I stopped.

It was sublime. It's a shame I don't read it.

- Yes. - That's enough!

I proclaim my lack of culture, but I admit I miss it.

I have to move on.

But to what?

I don't know.

When I met Toutoune, he wanted me to go back to school.

Apart from cocks, sun and bars,

not much interested me.

Not even money.

Though I was a gigolo.

If you ask him what's happened in the last 20 years,

he'll tell you Lady Diana died.

AidS and all that doesn't matter.

When I told him I was HIV positive,

he said, "It's the best gift you could give me."

My doctor...

said I should see Professor...

I don't know his name.

He wants me to start a triple therapy.

I'm scared.

Perhaps you should listen to him.

I'm scared of the side effects.

I've been coping for 24 years.

But looking like an Auschwitz victim... I won't deal with it.

There's been progress.

I think there are effective treatments with few side effects.

You've lived with uncommon energy,

with this Damocles sword hanging over you.

I think you're very solid.

Perhaps it's time.

If there's no choice, I'll do it.

Go on...

Nothing.

I'm afraid.

I think about suicide.

I can't write.

I doubt.

I doubt our work.

You allude to the cat which suffocated my brother as the pussy,

my mother's pussy... Sorry, but I have doubts.

Talk about your childhood.

You never speak of it.

I only remember sad moments.

The gay moments, in the literal sense, I don't recall.

Oh, yes.

I always wanted to touch my father's cock.

Go on... And at the moment?

At the moment...

Nothing.

I don't want anything.

Or yes, to meet someone.

You need to find a young man in your own circle.

Bourgeois brats with nothing to say.

I met a baker yesterday in physio, with his son.

Who knows?

There must be gays in your set who aren't camp.

I don't know them.

And I won't find them in Pigalle!

In the bars, you're old at 40.

Stop going out with old men.

My gigolos aren't old.

It's true that the others treat me like a child.

I feel fifteen.

We'll stop here for today.

Go out, see young people.

I can't even get up.

I'm just like Toutoune.

- See you Friday? - Yes.

y sweetheart,

went to Venice this weekend.

t is the strangest and perhaps the most beautiful city on earth.

We should go there sometime, far away from others.

he Biennal opened today, all the artists were there.

As you can imagine, the sudden change

and short trip away

"did me good.

l needed something very different after your departure,

and I'm managing to stay busy.

Are you getting used to the club?

And mostly, do you feel that playing every evening does you good?

l ask myself a thousand questions about you,

and I feel like September is further than the moon.

Yet it's just the beginning.

Almost nine o'clock.

l have to go.

Will you call me tonight between five and eight?

I wonder.

I'm expected at Marie-Odile's.

Perhaps I'll ask her to come here instead.

Your number never answers.

Gaston called me.

I'll see him next Sunday.

This surprises, amazes,

"and gives me great pleasure.

"Maybe I'll get a letter from you this morning

"when I drop by the concierge.

"Your schedule seems sensibly organized between tennis and yoga,

"pool and beach.

"Are you learning to swim?

"Right now,

"you must look like a mix between Arab and Sicilian,

"a sort of exiled Don Quixote,

"wandering lost.

"I miss you.

"I stumble upon you with every step in the apartment.

"And if part of myself is here,

"the rest is in Calabria.

"You find me torn in two.

"My thoughts of you outnumber the words on this page.

"All my love,

"my little fox cub.

"Toutoune. "

What do you want? I can't cope!

For six months, I've shut myself at home.

I can't continue like this.

I'm sick of gigolos.

The other day, I went to Pigalle. I was so messed up I shit myself.

Change your shrink.

I did.

I've only been going six months.

I can't talk to Toutoune, we've stopped understanding.

Only his countesses and money worries interest him anymore.

Since Marguerite Lamy's death, his only desire

is to take me on vacation.

You know, Toutoune is a former gigolo.

A society gigolo, but still a gigolo.

He wanted to do to me what they did to him.

If I'd listened, he'd have made me a handbag queen.

He was always against psychoanalysis.

And he says writing doesn't suit me.

Of course! He's losing me.

I haven't seen him in 3 months, he's miserable. What can I do?

I can't do it anymore.

When I tried to write the other day,

I found one of his letters.

It was so beautiful I wept.

I only saw him a couple of times.

I always found him boring.

I don't know how you manage. I can't stand old men.

Anything over forty...

I don't see anyone except Catherine.

I've known Toutoune 35 years.

He was always my father, my mother, my bank.

Like a parent you only want to see when things are bad.

Above all a bank.

At first, yes.

Not later.

Now we occasionally talk on the phone. I see no one.

Apart from you, Kiki and David...

and Rapha, who types my manuscripts.

At least you go out a bit. I don't move from here.

Apart from Serge, and you know the story, I'm alone.

You have Said,

and the one from Fontainebleau.

Said?

He's dead.

I wanted to adopt him. You even said I killed him.

I said that?

I don't remember.

Of course not.

As for the one from Fontainebleau,

if you remember,

it was hell. It lasted three years.

I don't know how you did it.

I saw him once, he had one of those looks...

At least I wrote.

It cost me a coronary, a coma and a heart valve,

but I wrote.

Now I'm at a loss.

Toutoune will have to die.

It's terrible!

You'll inherit?

At our age, having money is the best that can happen.

I don't think about that.

He stopped helping long ago.

Yes, when I was in the hospital for three months.

He's never been so happy.

I belonged to him.

No one could visit me.

He lost ten years.

My major strength

was daring to leave him.

For an ex-hustler, to leave a rich guy at 40...

it was brave.

Remember?

It was my biggest depression.

My blood pressure dropped, I was verging on suicide.

In fact, that's when I started writing.

I remember.

I found myself alone like an idiot in my tiny rooms.

120 m2!

And you own it.

I have nothing.

Apart from my work, I own nothing.

You're doing something useful.

One thing's for sure... No one ever bought my way of thinking.

It used to be my positive anxiety which drove my writing.

Now, I can only admit,

it's a negative anxiety.

And being HIV positive doesn't help.

They want me on triple therapy.

Forget about it.

You'll do like everyone.

There are worse things.

And it's the only way you write.

It's worked so far. Your little business makes money.

You used it well.

Except suicide, not much interests me.

Drop the subject.

Why? It's not scary.

- It's part of life. - Please!

You're like a shrink.

Talk of suicide with a smile, and you don't believe it.

I've known lots of suicides who were in top form.

That's true.

I'd rather you left. I want to rest.

I'm sorry.

You seem in great shape.

Pierre.

You're Pierre?

You don't recognize me? Richard.

Richard, I'm sorry. I didn't recognize you.

It's been a long time. At least ten years.

Yes, at least. How are you?

Fine. Who are you here for?

- Didier Jayle. - I just came from him. He's good.

It's my first time.

He's followed me for ten years. He saved my life.

Got my number?

It hasn't changed?

Mine, neither.

- Let's get in touch? - Yes.

The total is 300,000 euros.

300,000 euros...

Three times six, eighteen... 180,000 francs.

You talk in francs.

1,968,000.

One hundred ninety-six million.

There's no mistake?

Two life insurance policies, tax free.

Sign here...

and here.

I'm falling out with all my friends.

I complain all the time. No one calls me.

Good thing I see my shrink three times a week.

That's a lot, it's time consuming.

I was almost committed.

I was on antidepressants, antianxiety meds, antipsychotics...

It was looking bad.

I spent the summer locked at home.

The psychiatrist left me his cell number just in case.

My shrink is against medication.

Says it stops you thinking, which is true.

I was a zombie.

Better, but totally elsewhere.

And I was all puffy.

You get analyzed?

My studies played that role.

I had nothing to do but read.

Gaston even said I'd end up a professor.

But I did go for my daughter.

She saw terrible things as a child.

I was on the run. We were in a train,

the police came and pulled me from the compartment.

She hung on to me, her mom tried to calm her,

they cuffed me...

She was two or three.

Must have been tough on her.

Now she's fine.

We talk openly. She knows everything about me.

She recently found some papers. I was headline news.

Headline?

In all the papers.

I was wanted by lnterpol.

It was the run of the century.

I hid at Gaston's.

He wanted me to turn myself in.

The station was just downstairs.

You know, Place St-Sulpice.

There was a public toilet just across.

I used to go cruising with Roland Barthes.

The cops let it happen. At least we were safe.

What did you do?

I didn't budge. He didn't want me to stay with him.

He said he was going to the police, and he left.

Weren't you scared?

I was sure he wouldn't go, that he'd be back.

He thought it through.

He loved you.

Once I had a case full of bills.

He hid it under the bed. It must have amused him.

He knew your daughter.

He looked after her. Often saw her with her mom.

He'd take her to the Jardin du Luxembourg.

And the money?

She has the account number and password.

I prepared the papers just in case.

- Where does she live? - The Marais.

She rents?

- You should buy her something. - I thought about it.

I can't right now. It has to be official.

Even I rent. 1, 000 euros a month.

Until I sell the house in Corsica.

I'll keep the land, it'll appreciate.

I'll make a golf course for the tourists.

You know, tourism in Corsica...

The house is shared with Chavagnac. Know him?

- Unfortunately! - Gaston adopted him.

He regretted it. Couldn't disinherit him.

Gaston often spoke of it. He hadn't met you yet.

The guy was a crook, I always hated him.

He's a real gigolo!

Only waiting for Gaston's death.

He had a publishing house.

They had that in common.

He had several, they all went under.

One day he refused to sign some papers I needed.

I went back with two friends. He signed.

I might need you for the paintings, to scare the family.

Pierre left me a few paintings.

Some by Michaux, a 17th century still life,

and a Matisse, to pay inheritance tax if necessary.

Like a fool, I didn't take them.

Just like the will. He'd say,

"lf anything happens to me, the will's there. Take it. "

I saw it, and of course I didn't.

- He didn't give it to a lawyer? - No. It disappeared.

It's stupid. I had one from 1985.

I tore it up, thinking I'd find the other.

He left a painting to his niece, the apartment to charity.

He changed it later and left me everything.

So I tore it up in paranoia.

I was scared they'd search my house.

I almost put my foot in it with the police.

I was even suspected of killing him.

They kept me at the station,

told me to remain available... You know the line.

That's the short version.

Two single men... I'll spare you the allusions.

I've lost 15 million francs, not to mention the rest.

Good thing he left me life insurance.

It's like for his grave.

He was supposed to see a lawyer.

He didn't.

We bought it together in both our names.

I have the papers, it's not enough.

Need the family's authorization.

It happened here, at 1 o'clock.

I was meeting him for lunch. He never came.

- Where is he? - In his room.

You can't go up, sir.

Who are you?

His friend.

Can I see some ID?

Did he have any family?

Distant. He never saw them.

I don't even know their names.

He has an address book.

Go and get it.

Let me have that. I'm in charge of the investigation.

Can I see him?

Do you have keys?

Know anyone who does?

We'll be in touch. Remain available for questions.

I found him dead by his bed.

All his papers were there. We can't find them.

So you lose everything. Who will get it?

His family. He didn't like them.

You'll laugh at this. He had a hiding place for his money.

I couldn't find it, even though he showed me.

I slipped in with a friend, Bruno.

I got the seals removed,

thanks to the life insurance certificates.

We looked for the will.

It was hot that day.

We were sure no one would see us go in.

I was terrified.

I had two or three whiskeys first.

- Nothing. - It's the other one.

We can't stay here.

Come on.

The portrait of the teenager was here.

Come on. This isn't the moment.

The will was here.

Let's go, we won't find anything. Everything was searched.

Bruno! Please, come on.

We could take the figurine.

Everything's been catalogued. Let's go.

I hurried to the toilets in Chao Bao.

I was shaking.

I couldn't see how many were there. It was horrible.

I should have listened to Bruno.

Gone the night he died before they sealed it.

Got the will and the paintings, hid them at the neighbors'.

But the neighbors were scared and I didn't dare. It makes me sick.

You should have called.

Gaston did it by the rules. Left everything with a lawyer.

I get it all.

- He left the least possible to Rene. - Good.

He must be a grandpa.

He has two boys and a girl Sandrine's age.

I hope I haven't bored you.

And it's not over.

Got somewhere to go?

I might hit a bar.

"ls likely to cause side effects."

Likely, do you hear me?

"Diarrhea, vomiting, nausea, dizziness,

"pancreatic inflammation, respiratory troubles,

"kidney failure, hair loss..."

I can't lose my hair!

"Anemia, faintness, skin rashes,

"and liver ailments which could become life threatening."

Wait, it's not finished.

"Fever, blisters, mouth sores,

"eye inflammation, swelling in the face,

"severe liver and kidney disorders."

I'll die!

Don't you see? I can't do it!

I know I have to.

I've been coping for 24 years. Yes, I know.

I'll do it.

Bronchitis after bronchitis, it can't go on. I know.

But when I read all the side effects,

I'm sorry, but who wants to take them?

I'll be bald! I won't deal with it.

It's the fashion. Go on, mock me!

I'd like to see how you'd cope.

I'll take the decision alone, as usual. Toutoune is gone.

He was thrilled that I was HlV positive, so this treatment...

I'll just kick off like this.

Not with the face of an Auschwitz victim.

I'll do it. Of course I will.

Thank you, Rapha. Thanks.

That's right. I...

That's right. Big kiss, Rapha.

Piss me off!

It's 34 �C again this afternoon in the capital,

36�C in Bourges, 37�C in Toulouse.

The heat is terrible, and especially hard for those in cities.

The National Health Watch has announced 40 dea ths due to the hea t wa ve,

and heat-related illnesses are rising.

Firefighters are on the front line.

We report from a Parisian fire station.

The firefighters were called in for a person sick a t home.

For now, that's all they know.

On arrival, they found a 71-year-old ma n on his bed.

The man was already ill...

and very weak.

He's the typical victim of heartstroke.

Four people live in this tiny, ill-ventilated apartment.

It's been hot for several days,

and the firefighters will be busy over the coming days.

It's so hot in some apartments it will ta ke several days

before temperatures start to drop.

Strikes have been called in Palestine

to protest the visit of Condoleezza Rice.

Demonstrators have filled the central square in Ramallah,

including many women, mothers like Radija.

She holds the photos of her four sons, held prisoner in Israel.

"I'm behind Nasrallah, leader of the Islamic world! "

These a re the militants of Islamic jihad.

They pray that God will let Hezbollah triumph.

The demonstrators approached the Palestinian Authorities HQ.

They were forcibly dispersed by Palestinian soldiers.

The US position has slightly evolved since the arrival of Condoleezza Rice.

There's talk of a ceasefire in Lebanon, with conditions.

However, the Israeli position has not changed.

Ehud Olmert says Israel has the means to wage a long war on Hezbollah.

Beirut's southern suburbs rema in a Hezbollah stronghold.

Young lookout guys on scooters oversee everything.

Locals who have not recovered their belongings

are directed to shelters.

The location of Hezbollah's main shelter is a secret.

This underground hiding place harbors 1,000 people every night.

"Look, these children don't belong in this shelter!

"They should be playing outside! "

O thers are even less lucky.

"They bombed everything. "

- "What's left of your store? " - "Nothin g!

"But Hezbollah didn't bomb, Israel bombed! "

"We don't like to wage war. But we'll take up guns

"and do all we can so we don't die. "

In Beirut, Israeli drones keep watch over the southern suburbs.

This afternoon, eight guided missiles destroyed several buildings.

The West Bank town of Hebron is home to about 1 20,000 Palestinians.

In the center, a settlement of 400 Jews is protected by 2,000 soldiers.

Most of the settlers are armed.

One killed several Palestinians here during prayer in'94.

The town is still partia lly occupied by Israel.

Hebron's residents are known for their strict observa nce of Islam.

Women a reveiled in the streets. There is little free space.

"We can't move, we can't do anything.

"This is how we live. "

The whole world knows the images of Hebron.

Always the same. Rocks thrown, shots fired, bombings,

a mbula nces, the noise of fear and sirens.

People came despite them, or because of them.

Six egg s.

One slice of ham. Thin, not thick.

Sliced bread.

One packet.

A tu b e of m ayo n n ai se. I have leftover chicken.

And give me a Dutch cheese.

The red.

And a good bottl e of Burgundy.

Th e b est. So yo u don't waste your time.

And a time.

Thank you.

That's right. Sixth floor.

Come in.

Sorry, it's my prostate.

Sorry, I thought it was Mustapha.

It's his day off, I'm covering.

This is...

my dad's barbershop. My brother wanted to burn it all.

- My dad's a barber. - Where?

- Agadir. - The Moroccan St-Tropez?

These are antique eau de cologne bottles.

And this is a sharpener for razors.

And this is Toutoune.

And the barber's seat.

Sit down.

It reminds me of my childhood. I did this with my classmates.

Come on. The bathroom's this way.

- How much for the groceries? - 25 euros.

- What's your name? - Khalid.

Bruno, look.

The Michaux pieces are mine.

That's his watch.

And his father's watch.

Look, Bruno!

Dixie's gold cigarette holder,

from Van Cleef's.

And the Dupont I gave him.

And his cufflinks.

- You've met? - Of course, Willem.

I came.

I'd like to buy a few souvenirs.

The broken guitar, he smashed it over my head.

And a few knick knacks.

Remember Marie-Odile de Mezele?

I don't understand.

They're all here, I can't do this.

I'll come with you.

Know what they said to Toutoune when he met me?

"You can go down a floor, but not to the basement."

Will you go back in?

I want an estimate for the portrait of the teenager.

The one that was in the bathroom.

I wanted to buy it from him.

Pierre said it could have been a David.

Buy it. As a gift from me.

And the little statuettes that were lying around.

Pierre said the crusaders' wives would throw them in the Seine

to bring back their husbands alive.

Like casting a spell.

They called them "Plombs de Seine".

Like the fountain in Rome, where you throw in coins to make a wish.

There's a taxi.

I'll let you pay.

Get me a catalogue.

Number 52.

A signed ink on paper by Henri Michaux.

We'll start bidding at 8,000. We're at 8,000. 500...

8,500. 9,000... 500.

The bid is 10,000. 11,000. 12,000. We have 13,000.

13,000, that's you. 14,000.

Madame? 1 5,000. We have a bid for 15,000.

16,000. No, 16,000... 17,000.

Madame, you're stopping at 17,000?

No regrets? Going, going, gone.

Now to number 111.

19th century French school,

the unsigned portrait of a teenager. Bidding starts at 200.

300, 400. You, Madame, at 400.

500... 1,700. 1,800.

We've got 1,800 in the first row.

1,900.

2,000. Going, going, gone to the gentleman in the first row.

127, a 17th century still life,

situated in Varangeville, and signed.

We'll start the bidding at 1 0,000 euros. 12,000. 13, 000.

The bid is at 1 3, 000. 14, 000. 15, 000.

Still the same address?

Same code? A5864?

You'll be home at 6 pm?

Seven euros for delivery.

Gone at 38,000.

If I take stock, it's a lot.

Toutoune's death, the new drugs...

it's a soap opera.

I can't stop thinking about the loss of the will.

He's dragging you into his grave with that will.

I told him I needed the money now, not at seventyfive.

The result is I've lost 1 5 million francs.

And that phrase he said three days before his death.

We were in the Parc Monceau.

I told him to stop walking like a little old man.

He said, "Stop humiliating me!"

I'll never forget it.

It's tough to hear.

You'll write it.

Write it... very funny!

The inheritance is keeping me alive.

If I liked fishing or chasing butterflies, I'd be better off.

If you asked what would make me happy...

Nothing.

Not even getting well.

A young boy to take everything from you?

I'd like that.

We'll stop for today.

I wouldn't let it happen.

I like being miserable.

When Toutoune died, I was miserable.

I lived his death.

I screamed, "Toutoune, Toutoune!" It was awful.

I was miserable, and also very happy.

I have a friend who keeps calling to say she's happy.

How aggressive and selfish.

I don't believe in happiness. Especially other people's.

I hope I won't end up like you.

I'll shoot myself first. I don't want to be old.

Everyone says that.

At 25, I thought I was old.

I wouldn't buy a pressure cooker, I was too sure I'd die.

When I met Toutoune,

I was 25.

I thought, "He's the one."

I stopped turning tricks.

I had the illusion of believing in theater.

I wanted to be a star.

I fast learned I wasn't made for it.

You have nothing.

I'm happy at home. I read, watch movies...

I do my clients, and some lays for myself.

I like to travel. You have money and freedom.

At 60, alone like an idiot... what good does that do me?

I can't live with anyone. I have Jimmy.

Jimmy's a billionaire. No notion of money.

He could leave you a million or ten. Doesn't see the difference.

His lawyers deal with all that.

There's life insurance for me. Otherwise, nothing's in my name.

If something happens to him, you don't exist.

You couldn't even take the money you hid there.

I removed it.

- Open a bank account. - I can't.

Call my banker, he'll advise you.

He could also be a new client.

I'll do it.

Have him buy you an apartment.

I've no sense of ownership.

I can't do long-term placements like you.

Take clients, sleep with them, eat with them,

but not share an apartment.

I never lived with Toutoune.

But I gave a lot. You have to give to take.

And I loved him, later.

Not like he wanted, but I loved him.

Know what Roland Barthes said when he introduced me once?

I was 20.

He said I was a whore.

In the semantic sense.

With no attachments, no place, no roots.

I was just that, a whore.

It's nice.

But watch out, you're 29.

It's midnight. Want to hit a club?

I'd be ridiculous.

Not at the Depot. And you'd be with me.

I'll pay, let's go.

I can't find my keys.

David, thank God you're here.

You're lost without me.

I watched you cross the street. You look like such a queen.

I look like a queen but I'm not, to the joy of my wife.

One doesn't stop the other.

Thanks for my keys.

I'm losing my head.

What will you drink?

At this hour... same as you.

Excuse me... two whiskeys.

How are Kiki and Laetitia?

Laetitia is sleeping.

I didn't wake her?

I'll give the keys back.

It doesn't matter.

Not to you. To me, it does.

Think I'm losing my hair?

Here... isn't it lighter?

I don't think so.

And my cheeks?

They're not swollen?

I don't see it.

My eyelids?

You haven't changed since the funeral. You look fine.

It's the pills. For now.

Still seeing your shrink?

I stopped, I told you.

Why?

Got sick of rehashing the same stuff.

He never spoke.

And it's expensive.

Health Care reimbursed you.

I had to pay up front.

How are the piano lessons?

I have 26 students.

And you got reimbursed by Health Care?

When you have a difficult relationship with money, I find that weird.

You keep saying that.

You still see yours?

He's the only person I can complain to.

Toutoune is gone.

I need a young boy. Clever, flirtatious, lively...

Like you 40 years ago.

And I'm Toutoune. That's life.

I have to get used to it.

It's right there.

Two, please.

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