Calm down, now.
Now you’ll feel better.
What am I going to do?
Tommaso Garani, room 103.
Seventh floor.
Wait here a moment.
Attention: The doors are dosing.
Please press the button for the floor you wish to visit.
Excuse me.
My phone isn’t working.:
I can’t get it to work. Would you mind?
Could you notify the receptionist downstairs?
He’s still on morphine, but he’s awake. You may go in.
There was talk of operating.
We decided against it. It would be pointless now.
Excuse me.
Tommaso.
Are we disturbing you? - My dear friends, come in.
Lidia. - Hello, Tommaso.
How are you?
The operation was successful, but the patient died.
Have a seat.
What’s new?
Your book comes out today. You happy?
- Let’s not talk about that. - Why not?
One has to do these things.
And your book’s the only thing that really matters.
Lidia, why don’t you sit down?
Smoke if you like. - No, thank you. I’m not tired.
I brought you Europa Letteraria with your article on Adorno.
I already got a copy.
What do you say? Should I add it to the book?
I need to read it again more slowly, but it’s very good.
Of course you should include it. It’ll be a great book.
I’ll have to give it more thought.
I haven’t had much time to think the past few days,
though this is my first free time in three years.
There’s a certain irony to this vacation, eh?
Lidia, you’re looking very well.
Marcella wanted to come, but I thought -
You were right. I’d rather not see anyone.
It’s amazing how tired you get of pretending
at a certain point.
I don’t mean you two. I was hoping you’d come.
I see things more clearly now.
I regret spoiling many of your evenings with my presence
in your lovely apartment.
It’s your home too. You know that.
Yes, I know.
So many things become clear when you’re all alone.
And there’s still so much to do.
I feel like I watched from the sidelines
when I should have been more involved.
I lacked the courage to go all the way.
I console myself with the thought I wasn’t smart enough anyway.
You? Then I should give up writing
and just find a good job.
I think you’re just being coy. - A little self-criticism is good.
It helps put things in perspective and gives you courage.
You bought it? I wanted to bring you a copy.
THE SEASON
I didn’t just buy it. I’m reading it too.
I’ve only read 50 pages so far.
I hope they’ll let me finish it.
I like certain parts very much, like the whole thing about the bath.
Ft’s your best work ever,
if the morphine hasn’t warped my judgment.
Morphine makes everything
seem important.
Then it’s definitely the morphine.
But seriously, you really like it?
Yes, Giovanni.
You’ll end up a great success.
I’m really afraid I’ll end up badly.
There. See the advantage of a premature death?
You give success the slip.
Ah, my mother.
Hello, ma’am.
How are you, Tommaso?
Poor Mother. Seven hours on a train,
and now keeping me company leaves you no time to sleep.
Today’s Saturday, right?
Yes, Saturday.
Tell me about yourselves. Who are you seeing these days?
We haven’t seen anyone in a while.
Just the same crowd.
Everything’s so hard these days.
We spend our time in the car just getting around. It’s no fun.
We’re almost always home.
What about your trip to Greece?
- We haven’t decided yet. - It was your idea,
so when you’re better - - Treat me like a friend, not an invalid.
I know very well how this is going to end.
I’m sorry.
By the way, I’ve given my publisher instructions regarding royalties.
After all, he’s the one paying for all this.
It’s nothing. I’m sorry.
Don’t tire yourself out.
Shall I call the nurse? Or should we go?
No, please stay.
Quite a place, eh?
Everything I used to hate in terms of style.
I never thought I’d end my days in such luxury.
I feel like a fraud.
Soon hospitals will look just like nightclubs.
People want a good time right to the very end.
Ah, the champagne.
Thank you.
In cases like mine one craves champagne.
I don’t even like it,
yet I got a sudden urge for it.
They weren’t surprised.
It gives you a lift. It’s good for you.
Excuse me, miss.
I never dared ask your name before.
My name is Elena.
Thank you. Won’t you have some with us?
No, thank you. And don’t tire yourself out talking.
That lovely creature’s only job is to cheer up the sick.
She can’t do anything. She’s just beautiful.
But sometimes beauty can really be depressing.
Giovanni, will you pour? - Sure.
Only for me? What about you, Lidia?
No, thanks, Tommaso.
I’d rather not.
Giovanni, don’t make me drink alone.
Mother, a little champagne? - Just a touch.
I have to go.
Giovanni, you stay.
I have to go.
We’ll be back tomorrow. - Thanks. See you tomorrow.
Are you leaving too? - No, I’ll stay a bit.
So long, Lidia.
Good-bye.
See you soon. Tomorrow.
They’re the only friends I have]
The rest are just acquaintances or colleagues,
but these two are good people.
Giovanni’s a writer. Famous too.
If they ever visit you someday -
you must go and visit -
fix them a good dinner
and give them the room looking out on the garden.
If it will make you happy, we’ll go. I promise.
I bet it’s distilled water they’re giving me, not morphine.
How was the Backhaus concert?
I didn’t go.
Do you have a match?
No, matches^
Come on, get up.
I could do without this boring book party.
If you don’t feel like it, I’ll go alone.
- I’m fine. - Aren’t you tired?
Yes, maybe a bit.
I have to tell you something that may upset you.
You really have to?
Yes.
Something very unpleasant happened at the hospital.
I saw that girl again.
- What girl? - The one in the corridor.
She was standing at her door. At first I didn’t understand.
Did you go in her room?
She grabbed me like a wild animal. I couldn’t get away.
Why did you call it unpleasant?
Don’t you understand? That twisted face?
At first I thought I’d provoked it. It was horrible.
Then the nurses came in.
Good material for a story. “The Living and the Dead.”
- That’s all you have to say? - What should I say?
That what you did was vile? That you disgust me?
No, I understand. You were overwhelmed by it all.
But let’s drop it now. You mind?
Maybe that woman’s happy now.
Why?
Because she’s not responsible.
Hello. How are you?
My wife.
Hi. How are you?
Congratulations, Pontano.
Thank you.
This is the anteroom to fame.
We’ve all had to wait here.
Would you dedicate a copy to our Nobel Prize winner?
Here’s a pen.
I’m honored.
- Do you always sign on the left? - Yes.
- Do you open your books on the left? - Possibly.
That’s interesting. It bears on your future.
Really?
I’m counting on it.
- And for my collection. - For you, just “To my friend.”
- Very good. - You’ll learn to write dedications.
- What are you working on now? - Nothing.
- What a shame! - It’s always the same question.
Where is he?
How I’d love to write a book.
He claims he’s a Marxist.
Can you believe it?
What’s the matter?
Come here. Why are you crying?
Not coming to the seashore? - No, too busy.
- Then we’ll talk on the phone. - Okay.
- Say hi to Lidia for me. - Will do.
Your mail, sir.
Franca.
My wife isn’t back yet, is she?
No call either, right?
- Dinner’s ready. - I’ll wait, thanks.
Feel free to go. - Thank you.
Wait here.
That’s enough! Stop it!
Wait.
That’s enough.
Shall I keep waiting? All right.
- It’s windy up there. - Sure is.
They reach 10,000 feet.
- Would you go to the moon? - Not me.
Lidia?
Giovanni!
- Hi, Lucia. By any chance - - I didn’t know you were home.
- Actually - - What a bother!
Paolo has a cold, so we can’t leave town.
- I’m sorry. Listen - - Ask Lidia to stop by.
That’s just it. She’s not home. I thought she might be over there.
- I haven’t seen her in two days. - Okay, thanks.
Hello?
Oh, it’s you.
Where are you?
Sesto San Giovanni, outside the Breda plant.
In that same old field.
There are some kids out here. I know you’d like it.
They’re shooting off rockets.
They go up really high! It’s beautiful.
Don’t worry. Nothing’s happened.
For heaven’s sake, I tell you it’s nothing.
Come pick me up, will you?
And hurry.
If you’re meeting someone, there’s a little hotel nearby.
No, thank you.
- How much is it? - Nine hundred lira.
Thank you. - You’re welcome.
Our program continues with more easy listening.
Why did you come out here?
No reason. I just happened over this way.
Come here.
How strange. It hasn’t changed at all.
It will... very soon.
- They were down there. - Who?
The boys with the rockets. They’re gone now.
These tracks were still in use when we used to come out here.
Would you please hand me the sponge?
Listen, Giovanni.
What is it?
I don’t feel like staying in.
Let’s go to the Gherardinis’.
Wherever you like, but let’s get out.
Sure. We’ll go to their place.
- What does he want with you? - No idea.
I’ve only met him once or twice.
- Will there be lots of people? - I imagine so.
Every millionaire wants his own intellectual.
You must be his choice.
Could you pass me that?
Here you go.
- Is that new? - Yes.
What’s wrong?
Would you fasten me?
You know what?
Let’s not go to that party. - Why not?
I’d rather we went out by ourselves. I want to be with you.
Sure. If you like.
What?
- It’s so amusing watching you. - Why?
don’t know.
You seem so reserved around me sometimes.
What are you talking about?
Look at her. She’s not bad at all.
- You remember? - You’re really trying to distract me.
Please don’t always belittle me.
I can have thoughts of my own]
Which at this moment are...?
I don’t have any at this moment...
but I’m expecting one.
I can feel it coming.
It’s here.
- Did it arrive? - Yes.
Is it a good one?
Tell me what it is.
Why not?
Where’s the Gherardini villa?
In Brianza, a half hour’s drive.
Life would be tolerable if not for its pleasures.
- Is that your line? - No, I no longer have ideas.
Only memories.
Tell me the thought you had.
Later.
Shall we go to the Gherardinis’?
How come you changed your mind?
I don’t know. One has to do something.
- The check, please. - Right away, sir.
- Are they all dead? - Let’s hope so.
Who here would be reading The Sleepwalkers?
The Pontanos, right?
So nice of you to come. I’ve heard so much about you.
We’re all celebrating his first victory.
It’s my daughter’s horse.
- What’s his name? - Volfango.
He’s such a good horse.
You’re so young.
From your books one expects an older man of great experience.
- You’ve read them? - Do I look like such a lightweight?
Come. I’ll introduce you.
That might get a bit complicated.
We’ll introduce ourselves as we meet people.
You’re right. I’ll just make a general introduction.
Lidia!
Hi, Berenice.
- You know each other? - Lidia and I?
We’ve hated each other since we were two.
My husband.
So you finally left your lair!
- Let’s let these two catch up. - Sure.
Antonio, put him to bed now.
Why? He’s so sweet.
He gets frisky without his sleep.
- But it’s his party, after all. - He’s only two.
Put him to bed.
I don’t want him picking up bad habits, and this bunch has plenty.
Go on, Antonio.
So what’s new with you?
Don’t look at me like that.
I know that the years are written all over my face.
But you’re much prettier now.
What did you do? You used to be so plain.
You don’t mind me saying that, do you?
I’ve heard it so often.
You always act like a slut.
Are you married?
No, I live alone. All alone.
was born
to be alone.
I’m obviously too sensitive.
Even my dentist used to say that.
And what are you up to?.
Hanging around with intellectuals?
We’re both in Milan
yet we never cross paths.
We’re always holed up at home.
We went out tonight to our first nightclub in years.
Look how pretty the pool is.
I see Grimaldi a lot. Remember her?
- No, please. - What?
Let’s not bring up old memories.
Let’s have some music, boys.
There are over 3,000 rosebushes here.
Look at the deep hue they take on at night.
Do roses sleep?
Yes, all night long. L ’espace d’une nuit, madame.
Antoine, ies ciseaux.
We have to find you the most beautiful one.
Look how beautiful.
It’s just woken up, and it’s the same color as your lips.
Antonio, give these to Filippo.
Everyone else’s arrangements look like they’re for a funeral.
See who’s here?
- Good evening. - Ah, excellent.
So glad you came.
We’ve met a few times, - Ves... right?
though I can’t remember where.
You two look bored to me.
- Should I jump in the pool? - Naked or dressed?
- Care for one? - I don’t smoke.
I’ve heard a lot of good things about you.
- Who designed this villa? - Vietti. You like it?
Cesarino, where are you?
- Here, sir. - Show this gentleman around.
Too bad it’s too dark to see the park. It’s beautiful.
I’m going to Deauville. You know it?
It’s a bit cold, but I’ll be on my boat.
- Your boat? - A yacht, for little jaunts.
Good evening, Berenice.
He’s awfully rich. He must owe a billion.
Look, Roberto’s here. You know him?
Shall I introduce you? - No, are you kidding?
He’s an extraordinary man. I’ll go get him.
Listen, stop sending me postcards.
I’m green with envy.
- How are you? - Not bad.
- I just got back the other day. - Living it up, eh?
- I was on business. - Yeah, sure.
Well... maybe.
Listen, that answer’s not good enough for me.
- Have you eaten? - Later, thanks.
Look who’s here.
Our friend, the benefactress from Rome.
Mr. Pontano, this is Marquise Gentili,
an expert in orphans.
Do you smoke?
I guess I’ll have one,
since it seems everyone smokes here in Milan.
Miss Resy, come join us
May I introduce Mr. Pontano?
'he author of -
What a marvelous book!
If you two will excuse us -
I consider it among the best books ever written.
You’re too kind.
I’ve read it three times.
I’m sure I must be your greatest admirer in Italy.
You must allow me that privilege. - Why not?
You know, I’d like to read a novel
about a woman who loves a man,
but the man doesn’t love her.
But he does admire her intelligence, her temperament.
They start living together, and then -
But how could a story like that end?
Lots of ways.
She’d have to be an exceptional woman,
capable of sacrificing herself -
That’s it! She sacrifices herself for another woman’s happiness.
But why?
She just does.
It makes me want to cry.
What are you doing?
Why don’t you join the others?
will in a moment.
Are you finding the atmosphere interesting?
Quite.
Why do you never seem to enjoy yourself?
This is how I enjoy myself.
There’s a girl in the house having a good time by herself too.
She’s the one reading The Sleepwalkers.
Pretty too.
Where are you going?
Pontano, how’s it going?
I’m afraid I don’t know anyone here.
So as I was saying, my friend,
it’s absurd to speak of wealth now. No one’s wealthy anymore.
But should anyone still think of becoming rich,
my only advice would be:
“Don’t worry about the money.”
I’ve always looked upon my businesses as works of art.
Whatever profit I earned
was of practically no concern to me.
The important thing is to create something solid,
something to be remembered.
But darling, not everyone can create something lasting.
Please, dear, do you mind?
What sustains a writer - you, for instance -
is certainly not the idea of profit
but a sense of necessity.
You write because you know you have to -
Still, one has to live.
never worried about that.
Life is what we make of it through our own efforts.
What would you do if you couldn’t write?
A few years ago he’d have killed himself. Now I don’t know.
fell us.
I don’t consider myself that important.
There are other solutions.
A writer of today constantly wonders
if writing isn’t some sort of irrepressible
but outdated instinct.
This lonely craft
of painstakingly joining one word to another
that absolutely can’t be mechanized -
- Are you sure about that? - No.
But you industrialists have the advantage
of constructing your “stories”
using real people, real houses, real cities.
The rhythm of life today is in your hands.
Perhaps even the future.
My husband’s having a particularly bad day.
I guess so.
Are you one of the many worrying about the future?
I’m building my own future,
though the present keeps me plenty busy.
Besides, the future will probably never come.
The future will be awful, don’t you think?
What are you two doing tomorrow? Why not spend the night?
Darling, you’re always interrupting.
I’m sorry. Let’s leave these two alone.
You two carry on.
You were saying the future will never come.
That’s right.
Sit down.
Who even knows what the future holds?
Perhaps our privileges will be swept away.
That would actually be a good thing.
When I was young - long ago now, sadly -
I imagined a world like this,
and I set to work creating such a future.
Bah!
Something to drink?
- A cognac. - Cesare.
He’s been staring that statue in the eye all day.
Maybe he sees some resemblance,
or he’s waiting for it to wake up.
Who can know a cat’s mind?
White wine, please.
- Go away, Resy. Leave me alone. - Why?
Excuse me a moment.
Look who’s here! My loverboy!
Guido, thanks for coming. You’ve lost weight.
Can you find someone to play with me?
- Won’t I do? - No, too old.
I’d get younger playing with you.
- I don’t want to get younger. - Why?
Tell me why. - See? I’d have won.
My cosmetic case has to stop on a square in the last row.
What are we playing for?
Let’s each decide in our head and tell each other later.
My name’s Valentina.
Do you lose at this game often?
I just made it up.
I lost everything once. - Playing what game?
Let’s say you need at least seven points to win.
Then let me get to the point. I came here to talk to you.
- Good shot, but too timid. - You’re right.
- I’m scared. - Come on.
And that wasn’t timid enough.
Show me what you can do.
Great shot!
- One for me! - My turn now.
Way too long.
- One of the stones fell off. - Really?
I’m sorry.
I’m really sorry.
Let’s look. It can’t have gone very far.
It fell off around here.
- Maybe it landed in the garden. - That’s a good one.
It doesn’t matter. It was just a real ruby.
You really enjoy playing the cynic?
I’m aiming for that square. It’s really hard!
Here goes.
There it goes!
I almost made it. -15,000 on Valentina!
20,000 on Pontano!
30,000 on Pontano!
Come on! You’re getting carried away!
-60,000 on Pontano. - No!
If you do that, I’m not playing.
You only worry about losers.
Typical intellectual.
Selfish, but full of compassion!
This is offensive. I’m not some kind of racehorse.
Is there a fresh horse in the room?
Right here!
I’m calling to inquire about Mr. Garani.
Room 103.
When?
Ten minutes ago?
Was his mother with him?
Valentina.
I’m a bit disappointed.
In me?
How can I set that right?
Shall we read a few pages together?
That would be one way of getting closer.
- Do you crave lots of affection? - Don’t you?
I owe you a prize. I withdrew from the game.
Let me savor that debt...
a bit longer.
Just don’t forget.
I seem to always be forgetting something these days.
- Bye. Call you tomorrow. - All right, dear.
Ignazio, you’re leaving too?
I am. Thank you for the nice evening,
but it’s late, and you need your sleep.
No, I’m not going to bed. He’s the one who gets up early.
Good night.
- Good night, Daddy. - Night, sweetheart.
That’s right.
Let’s have a little chat.
- I’ll expect you tomorrow night. - Absolutely.
- Listen, Mother. - What, darling?
Pontano, I have a proposition for you.
I could use a man like you. - What for?
A cultural program for my employees.
I want to shake up my company.
There’s no communication
between workers and management.
You know why?
They know nothing of the company’s history
or about me, its founder.
Let’s sit down.
I want to set up a department
for handling press, advertising, public relations,
and especially...
internal relations.
I’d like to put out something on the company’s history.
- Which I would write? - Yes, but that’s not all.
I’d like you to become an executive.
- A full-time job? - Right. Wouldn’t you like
to share in the life of the company?
Tell me: What you are earning at the moment?
I don’t know.
Your wife’s from a wealthy family, isn’t she?
I see you’ve done your research,
but I have my own money too.
And I write a lot for newspapers.
see.
Wouldn’t you like to be independent?
In what sense?
Think it over.
And remember that my company pays top salaries.
Gentlemen, look what my cousin brought me
from the States.
A wallet. And she put a dollar inside.
Shows how far the dollar can reach!
What are you doing all alone up there, Mrs. Pontano?
These writers!
Beautiful here, isn’t it?
Giovanni.
I’ll be right back.
Things were looking good,
but that damned Carida got ahead,
and I couldn’t catch up.
That was your mistake.
If you’d gotten out ahead earlier,
you’d have won easily.
- Have you seen Miss Gherardini? - No.
- Thanks. - You’re welcome.
Care to dance?
Yes.
You don’t know how to dance!
It’s raining!
Everyone into the pool!
Look at her!
Stop playing around!
Me too!
She’s crazy!
Don’t be foolish.
- Where are you taking me. - Get in.
Angelo, bring some candles, please.
Just feel! I’m soaked!
Giulio, where are you?
Pontano, where are you going? Wait a moment.
Why haven’t we talked? Tell me something.
Later. I’ll come tuck you in and tell you a nice fairy tale.
Pretend I’m in bed now.
No, later.
I’ll tell you a story about a hermit -an intellectual, of course -
who drank only dew until he came to the big city,
where he tasted wine and became an alcoholic. How’s that?
I want a story that’s really happened to you.
Worse happens to me, believe me.
I’d like to understand how a writer thinks.
- What’s your name? - Friends call me Resy.
You only want to understand writers?
No, others too.
Then I imagine you’re very busy.
See you later.
I’m sorry. I can’t.
I don’t break up marriages.
At least I’m smart enough in that regard.
Now go spend the rest of the evening with your wife.
But she’s the one who sent me to you.
Doesn’t matter. Pay me your debt that way.
It’s too dark. How can I find her?
I felt very sad earlier...
but playing with you cheered me up.
Now it’s creeping back.
It’s like the sadness of a dog.
Have you got a cigarette?
I smoke cigars.
Excuse me while I get mine.
- Angelo. - Yes, miss?
- Bring more candles. - Yes, miss.
I think we still have some things to say to each other.
Of course, but...
I think love hems a person in.
It’s a sort of mistaken notion that creates a vacuum all around him.
But not inside him.
Sentiment is back in style even in novels these days.
I see. You’re gathering material tonight.
No, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to write again.
It’s not what to write'
but how.
It’s a crisis affecting many writers today,
but in my case
it’s something secret inside affecting my whole life.
You’re just weak...
like me.
Why are you telling me these things?
I might not understand.
After all, I like golf...
tennis...
cars...
parties.
Nothing else?
Isn’t there anything else?
Yes.
Everything.
Could you help me?
Promise not to make fun of me?
I promise.
From the living room today you could hear dialogue
from a film on television.
After that line, the howling of a dog, slow and sure,
rising in a perfect arc and trailing off in great sadness.
Then I thought I heard an airplane,
but there was silence, and I was glad.
The park is full of silence made up of sounds.
If you press your ear to a tree and listen,
after a while you’ll hear a sound.
Perhaps it comes from within us,
but I prefer to think it’s the tree.
Within that silence were strange noises that disturbed
the soundscape around me.
I dosed the window, but the noises persisted.
I thought I’d go crazy.
I don’t want to hear useless sounds.
I want to pick them out throughout the day.
Same with voices and words.
So many words I’d rather not hear, but you can’t escape them.
You must resign yourself to them
like to the waves when you float on your back in the ocean.
May I hear it again?
- I erased it. It was silly. - Why are you being like this?
Because I don’t have some overpowering vocation.
Besides, Mother says scribbling indoors all day
is bad for the skin. - It’s a crime to waste such intelligence.
I’m not intelligent.
I have a sharp eye. That’s different.
Observing things is enough. I needn’t write about them.
Last year we went to the States to see Julia.
- Who’s Julia? - The hurricane.
We may be running into each other often.
Your father’s offered me a job.
Last year I thought I was in love with a man, but -
I don’t know. Something must be wrong with me.
But it will pass.
But every time I’ve tried to communicate with someone...
love has disappeared.
Was that when you lost everything?
Why work for my father?
You don’t need the money. - You don’t think so?
You need a girl to make a fresh start with.
Not a girl.
You.
Don’t be afraid.
I’m not.
You see?
This is ridiculous.
How can he sleep? Anything could happen.
Nothing ever happens.
I know, but I hate seeing time wasted.
Christ, you’ll give me a heart attack!
Come dry off in my room.
See you, Roberto.
A prosciutto sandwich -how dull.
Did you know that D’Annunzio’s turtle
died of colic after eating flowers?
Seriously. You don’t believe me.
I’ll get you a towel.
Take that dress off. It’s soaking wet.
Listen, Valentina -that is your name, right?
I’d rather you not fuss over me.
Just tell me frankly what’s on your mind.
But let’s not pretend we share some special bond.
I suspect it’s not in your nature anyway.
There’s nothing on my mind.
Dry off or don’t, but let’s not go on about it.
- Our writer doesn’t drink? - No, thank you.
One day last year in Venice,
I invited that American author to dinner - what’s his name?
The one who hunts elephants. - Hemingway?
That’s the one.
Now there’s a man for you! A real artist!
I told him, “My dear Hemingway, I like you.
I’ll come visit you on your farm in Cuba one day.”
You know how he replied?
“If you do, I’ll shoot you.”
There’s a man who really knows his business.
He earns all the money he wants.
Millions of dollars.
Even an intellectual can’t turn up his nose at that.
It’s hard to say what an intellectual might turn up his nose at.
One never turns up one’s nose at money.
Our time, sir...
is vile and anti-philosophical.
It lacks the courage to say what’s of value and what isn’t.
As for democracy, simply put it means,
“Take things as they come.”
I know that quotation,
but it’s offensive in this context.
- Why? - Because he said it smugly,
whereas it was written in despair.
It’s what you say that counts, not your intention.
Shall I tell you what happened or just skip it?
Let’s skip it.
Fine with me.
Confessions aren’t my strong point anyway.
In fact, I wonder what is.
Not love.
Or vices.
I have lots of vices,
but I really don’t practice them.
I don’t even like whiskey.
Well, I think I’ve found the vice that suits me.
It’s nice and warm.
How old are you?
Twenty-two...
and many, many months.
You don’t know how it feels when the years weigh on you
and no longer make any sense.
Tonight I just feel like dying.
I really do.
At least this agony would end and something new would begin.
- Or maybe nothing. - True.
Maybe nothing.
Let’s go. - Where? Wouldn’t it be better -
There was no jealousy in the things I said.
Not the slightest bit.
That’s the whole trouble.
I hope we’ll see you again..
Perhaps you’ll invite me over?
When you’re back from vacation.
We’ll get together in September.
I’ll be back much later than usual this year.
Much later.
You two have really worn me out tonight.
Mind if we go this way?
Don’t mind me.
I’m just crying over silly things.
Let’s not go home just yet.
Want a laugh?
Valentina’s father offered me a job.
An important position.
- Will you take it? - I don’t think so.
Why not? It’s a good opportunity.
Your life would be more your own.
I called the hospital earlier.
Tommaso died. - When?
Why didn’t you tell me?
You were playing downstairs.
Was he really a good friend of yours?
He was much more than that to me.
He always believed I had a strength and intelligence I don’t have,
so much so that I ended up believing it too.
He spent so many days just sitting with me,
trying to get me to study.
I wasn’t interested in the least.
I was so wrapped up in my petty problems.
His persistence nearly drove me mad.
I began to hate him for it.
And never once did he talk about himself.
Just me, me, me!
And I never understood.
I never realized what was happening.
How foolish and cocky we are in our youth.
It seems like nothing will ever end.
But you talked to me only about yourself.
'hat was new for me.
I was so pleased.
Nothing in the world felt sweeter,
maybe because I loved you.
I loved you, not him.
That’s why his adoration wore on me...
whereas you were flattered by it.
Isn’t that true?
Yes, but not much.
He was so vulnerable.
The reason I feel like dying is
I don’t love you anymore.
That’s why I feel so miserable.
I wish I were already old
so I’d have already dedicated my whole life to you.
I wish I didn’t exist anymore,
because I can’t love you anymore.
There it is.
That’s the thought that came to me
at the nightclub, when you were so bored.
But if you say all this,
if you wish you were already dead,
it means you still love me.
No, it’s just pity.
I never gave you anything.
I was oblivious to everything.
Even now I go on wasting my life like a fool,
taking without giving,
or giving too little.
Perhaps I don’t have much to give.
If that’s what you mean, you’re right.
I used to spend entire afternoons reading in bed.
Tommaso would stop by and find me like that.
He could have taken me in his arms if he’d liked.
I wouldn’t have rejected him, out of sheer boredom.
But he was content to sit and watch me as I read to him.
All those useless books!
Two hundred pages a day. I read them so quickly.
I haven’t given you anything.
It’s strange to realize only now
that what we give to others comes back to us.
What do those guys think?
That their music will make the day turn out differently?
Lidia, enough of this.
Let’s try to hang on to something we’re sure of.
I love you.
I’m sure I still love you.
What else can I say? Let’s go home.
“When I awoke this morning, you were still asleep.
As I slowly emerged from my slumber,
I heard your gentle breathing,
and through the wisps of hair over your face
I saw your closed eyes,
and I could barely contain my emotion.
I wanted to cry out, to wake you up,
because you slept so deeply
you almost seemed lifeless.
In the half light,
the skin of your arms and throat appeared so vibrant,
so warm and dry that I longed to press my lips against it,
but the thought of disturbing your sleep,
of having you awake in my arms again, held me back.
I preferred you like this,
something no one could take from me because it was mine alone -
this image of you that would be everlasting.
Beyond your face I saw my own reflection
in a vision that was pure and deep.
I saw you in a dimension that encompassed all the times of my life,
all the years to come,
even the years past as I was preparing to meet you.
That was the little miracle of this waking moment:
to feel for the first time
that you were and always would be mine
and that this night would go on forever with you beside me,
with the warmth of your blood, your thoughts,
and your will mixed with mine.
At that moment I understood how much I loved you, Lidia,
and the intensity of the emotion was such
that tears welled up in my eyes.
For I felt that this must never end,
that all our lives should be like an echo of this dawn...
with you not belonging to me but actually a part of me,
something breathing within me that nothing could ever destroy
except the dull indifference of habit,
which is the only threat I see.
Then you awoke
and with a sleepy smile kissed me,
and I felt there was nothing to fear,
that we’d always be as we were at that moment,
bound by something stronger
than time and habit.”
Who wrote that?
You did.
No...
I don’t love you anymore!
And you don’t love me either.
Be quiet.
Say it!
No, I won’t say it.