Original subtitles

Love,

humor.

Did I swim yesterday or today?

Once again I dreamed about her.

Night after night dream about her.

Every night

I have this dream:

in a boat,

without a crew,

empty,

only one passenger aboard.

She is returning from the far east.

Eyes,

hair.

Her dressed body,

covered,

it also speaks...

She looks at me,

I want to touch her...

I want to hear her...

But I can't...

I am desperate...

I wake up.

And then the next night...

The next night I have the same dream again!

The dream repeats... again and again, always.

Impossible...

It is impossible for one to understand.

But understand what exactly?

What about the false sense of security of men and women

who put aside what they should look at to understand?

The Desert Fathers

would go to the desert

to transform themselves into something else,

to become nothing...

To leave themselves.

Leave themselves?

That is only one part of it. One part of the whole.

Because the difficulty, maybe for some,

is actually returning to themselves.

They already naturally,

and normally, live completely outside of themselves!

I really like old things.

I'm modern.

I like it even more.

Look at the pyramids during the age of sacrifice.

We do worse nowadays even without the sacrifices!

I feel shaken

by the mundane appearance

created when they decorate things that are sacred!

How do you combine violent flesh with an elegant body?

How do you construct a body?

There are two ways:

marble and myrtle.

A body can be erected in marble or in myrtle.

It is costly to do it in marble,

but when you have finished, you are done.

Myrtle is easier to form,

but you have to constantly restore your work.

If not, every four days a branch runs across the eyes

and another decomposes an ear.

And what was a man just a moment ago

has already become a green confusion of myrtle plants.

What do you do?

How do you decide?

To escape death or surrender yourself to it?

Do you know this story?

It is an old story...

The woman that he loved had died.

Had married another.

To him, she was just an incarnation of the other who had died.

But he couldn't bear her absence!

He had some money

and he gave her everything she asked for.

But a bear of a hunger inside him

would demand this one thing from her.

Something difficult

that she was obligated to do,

and do it with some enthusiasm goddammit!

On certain occasions

he would point a finger,

asking her, by the same dark mouth,

to repeat gestures,

words,

positions from the life he and the other woman...

had lived in the past.

She, a slave,

had to live as the dead woman!

For many years her life had been a play of disasters!

She was ruled by the part of the demon

that enters the makeup of all creatures.

He materialized a fossil within her.

A fossil

that turned into a living dead woman

chased by her own shadow.

She was dragged

from the cave to the castle

by a ghostly abyss...

He had a fever for something vile.

What was pleasure for him,

for her...

It killed her!

The Owl of Athena,

The Bird of Minerva on its night flight!

Who are we?

It is not only the answer we lack,

but the meaning of the question.

We need a ground,

we need soil.

But where do we find this soil?

We ourselves are the soil.

What is in our heart, in our gestures?

Ourselves!

We walk without a floor, nor support.

We walk in the dark,

to overcome common sense.

A place where no one, nothing, no science,

not today, not tomorrow, will ever settle.

Beduino,

do you want to know if I am free?

What do I want with my freedom?

Surm...

Our lives...

shall always be an overcoming of things

but it continues on!

Never give up on it...

Give up on it?!

Ah, phew...

Give up...

give up on what?

If you let it go,

one thing is for certain:

you will never be a hopeless giving up.

You will always be a hopeless holding on.

A preserved hopeless.

A hopeless with hope.

Look at my body.

It is a display devoted to curiosity.

Here where is kept the rope

that Judas used to hang himself.

A Lebanese cedar structure

used in the construction of Solomon's Temple.

A deer antler

that on Fridays spills blood.

It is all curious characteristics of the mentality of the time.

Symbolic death.

Symbolic death?! How could anyone say that?

Hideous death.

Death says everything.

Death does not say everything.

He also said nothing.

Strange, that desire to live for so long.

He was an ambitious cactus.

Never smiled.

Laughter was against his principles,

smiling for him was something demonic.

A man made of cheese rind,

twisted like a radish, excessive like an imitator...

He left home before dawn, alone,

left his wife sleeping in bed. He escaped like mercury,

but he left this note

I miss the absence of your kiss more than the loss of my own life,

I miss the kisses you gave me.

But my thoughts are slaves to this life,

and life is a time of fools.

I could prophesy...

But death's icy touch seals my lips.

We are dust

and worm food.

After this,

he crossed the city on foot.

He walked through all the neighborhoods, went everywhere, all day.

At night, he went to the Zoo Garden.

He went in.

He walked, accompanied only by the moonlight.

Nothing bothered him,

not even the unhappy screeches from the nocturnal birds,

not even the grim rumblings from an impatient beast.

Without fear

he remained determined to stick to his plan.

He shot himself in the alligator lake!

What!?

Devoured by the crocodiles!

Worm food, was what he wrote in this note... It wasn't like that.

What a horrific suicide...

Suicide?

Maybe.

Then a very special suicide.

No... you do not know the man's heart.

He went into the alligator lake because it denies common sense.

His own good sense puzzled him, tortured him...

Those trapped crocodiles, to him, were victims of a heinous crime!

- A crime? - Yes, a crime.

Their imprisonment and extermination,

this monstrous, organized, uninterrupted, systematic crime

that men practice daily against animals.

He could not accept this.

He lived choking on the shameful knot lodged in this throat.

He wanted justice!

In order to satisfy his hunger for justice and dignity,

for there to be peace in his consciousness,

he offered his body as food to the victims.

He let himself to be eaten.

He let himself be eaten to the bone...

In solidarity of the imprisoned alligators.

Devoured by a saurian

under the cold moonlight!?

An offering...

A death ritual...

A mystery...

The human heart is a fog.

We stay alert as we navigate it

so we do not wreck against the hidden rocks,

an unlit crag,

an unknown cliff...

First the silence disappeared,

then the water.

Now the air has gone!

Melt,

anchor,

graft,

deform.

Compress,

stamp,

pack,

fabricate,

record.

I want to mold myself into you,

lose myself.

I am thirsty.

Thirsty for infidelity,

adultery,

for lies, for blackouts, for obscenities.

I'm pissed off.

Want to fuck me?

The city is sleeping.

And I dream about it:

a nightmare!

There is a story

that always gives me the shivers,

like a forbidden, evil shadow.

It keeps me awake. It makes my heart race.

What story, Surm?

The story of the Blonde Strangler.

The Blonde?

Strangler?

He left excellent material for evidence - his memoir!

It's called

Memoirs of a Strangler of Blondes.

An accomplished author,

he described the anatomy of the female neck and chest.

There is one piece where he talks about hands

and their importance in human civilization.

Mathematical studies, tradition modification projects,

the calendar. He touched on everything!

He made detailed observations of artistic symbols

that migrated from the Far East to the Occidental West.

He translated Latin poetry,

wrote a paper on the Four Elements and ancient philosophy.

He considered himself a specialist on "phobias and human passions".

The essential silence of the man,

the expression of his gestures,

his mental penetration,

are far more impressive than his crimes

which were numerous and dreadful!

He strangled more than fifty women...

All blondes.

At one point he strangled ten blondes at a time.

With the sharp eye of an anatomist,

he observed the victim's neck

as to determine the best point for suffocation.

Often our hands miss the intended mark.

Our souls love hands.

Women should die by the throat, and only by the throat.

That is what he wrote in his Memoirs.

He did it at home,

on the street,

in public squares,

all going unnoticed.

He seemed invisible...

But his memoir was not a gruesome collection of anecdotes.

A rare plant in the botany of spirits,

a similar figure has never emerged from the writers' inkpot.

A child and a savage.

He lived for nearly a century.

He never went to jail.

Despite committing all those crimes in the same city,

he was a traveler, a restless wanderer.

The man saw the whole world,

lived in Asia for years...

India,

Nepal, Cambodia, Laos, China, he lived in Tibet.

He spoke a few languages,

but was able to understand all of them...

He died

while writing the last two words of his long Memoirs...

What were the words, Surm?

Beautiful flower.

And? Was that a good ending to you?

It was good... it was good...

Cut! Thank you.

a.e.i.o.u Double-u double-u

Learned from books, our girl Juju Juju

a.e.i.o.u Double-u double-u

Learned from books, our girl Juju Juju

Juju knows how to read

Juju knows how to write,

studied ten years everyday

Juju knows how to read

Juju knows how to write

She writes the word cat with a "k"

a.e.i.o.u Double-u double-u

Learned from books, our girl Juju Juju

a.e.i.o.u Double-u double-u

Learned from books, our girl Juju Juju

She knows how to add,

She knows how to multiply,

But to her division is unkind,

The other day she made a gaffe,

While cutting the cheese in half,

She gave me no cheese, but just the rind

a.e.i.o.u Double-u double-u

Learned from books, our girl Juju Juju

a.e.i.o.u Double-u double-u

Learned from books, our girl Juju Juju

she knows world history

she knows natural history

and geography is not her forte

for navigating out at sea

From the bay she sailed away

Set for China she arrived in Norway

Subtitles ripped by: gooz