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This is a message from Sébastien Nicolas.

When you hear this, I will be gone.

I wanted to say goodbye.

There, it’s over.

42 years of non-existence.

My name was Sébastien Nicolas.

Male. Unmarried. White.

Non-practicing Catholic.

5’ 9”, 165 lbs.

Hair brown, eyes brown. Blood type A+.

How much you can say about a person, yet say nothing!

What else is there to say?

Though I never existed, I nevertheless had to live.

NOBODY FROM NOWHERE

Léo, I baptize you in the name of the Father...

and the Son...

Your sister cleans up well.

...and the Holy Spirit.

There you go.

You’re not the waiter.

Don’t worry.

Enjoy your guests.

Here.

How are you?

- Where’s my grandson? - Sleeping.

What a good boy. Want another one?

Mom, please!

Fine, I’ll stop talking.

As if you could!

I’ll get glasses.

How’s my choir boy?

Hello, Father. Fine, and you?

Fine, if your mom’s Sangria doesn’t blind me.

- She looks well. - Yes.

What about you? What are you up to?

I’m a real estate agent.

You like it?

Very much.

Good.

Come spend a weekend with us.

I’ll try.

Going out tonight?

I have a meeting.

How much is maintenance?

110 euros, including central heating.

Good light.

Southern exposure.

Not bad.

A little pricey, but not bad.

No carpet. Great for my kid.

She’s allergic to dust mites.

Her mom’s down south. She’ll be here in September.

For middle school.

Not bad.

Not bad.

A little pricey, but...

Not bad.

Not the south, but it’s got southern exposure.

What?

When?

I’ll call you back.

Sébastien.

Millier called about Saint Cloud. An eminent domain problem.

You talk to him. It makes me crazy.

Got it.

Message 1:

Hi, hon. It’s mom.

Guess you’re still at work.

Hope to see you soon. Call me back.

Guys, ever notice? That GPS lady has this thing.

She kind of flirts.

Never noticed? She gives directions,

but sometimes she’s like...

“Turn to the left.”

Not bad.

A little pricey, but not bad.

Southern? Southern exposure?

Not the south, but...

Not the south, but southern exposure!

Hello. I’m Charles Beaumont.

Oh shit.

Guys, ever notice? That GPS lady has this thing.

When she talks to you...

she kind of flirts.

Never noticed? She gives directions,

but sometimes she’s like...

“Turn to the left.”

ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS

We’ve all been here for the first time.

We all know how hard it is.

So, tonight I’d like us all to welcome

a new member.

- Charles. - Hello, Charles.

My name is Charles. I’m an alcoholic.

I’ve been sober for

eight weeks.

I’ve been a florist for...

twelve years.

I’ve had my own business for five years.

When we start at three in the morning,

and we start drinking at eight,

you think it’s fine.

It’s like getting up at 8 and having a drink at noon.

...we cannot change,

and the wisdom to know the difference.

Thank you. Thank you all.

It’s on the second floor, but...

there is lots of light!

Through here, you have access

to a small terrace.

Lots of charm, right?

And then she...

She pissed in the living room.

And that’s nothing.

Pissing all over,

losing my keys, my checkbook. Who cares?

It’s not that important.

But thinking I’m my father...

Confusing me with that asshole, that’s unbearable.

- Good night. - See you.

Charles!

Wait up, Charles.

I have no time.

Hey, who are you?

- I better go, Father. - No, please!

Please Sébastien, stay.

I’m glad you came to see me.

What’s the matter?

I can’t do it anymore, Father.

I just can’t. I...

I’ve always done as I was asked, but now...

I can’t pretend anymore.

Yet I want to change.

Because I know...

it isn’t right to do what I do.

I really want to change.

But...

those are the only moments I feel alive.

You know, Sébastien...

People talk a lot about life after death.

But there’s another dimension, at least as important.

And that’s life after life.

You have a right to change, to be transformed.

You can make amends, become a better person.

Whatever you’ve done,

you can, if you want to,

become another man, take on a new self.

First off, let me thank you for your work.

Great numbers this year. Let’s hope for even better next year.

And thank you for this lovely gift.

Really. Good choice.

You know my taste.

- Merry Christmas to all. - Merry Christmas!

Miss Traven?

I’m Sébastien Nicolas. From the Chambard Agency.

You’re early.

- You want me to come back later? - No, of course not.

It’s just so rare in this country. Always makes me feel that we got

two hours time difference, instead of one.

- Sit down. - Thank you.

Before we get started, I would like you to sign this non-disclosure agreement.

No information about my client must be divulged publicly.

The very fact you sign the agreement is confidential. Is that quite clear?

Yes.

We are-- We are kind of used to these kind of precautions.

I represent a celebrity.

You probably wouldn’t know him, but he is world famous.

My client is French.

He lived in New York for years,

would like to return to Paris... without letting it be known.

My client requires a spacious apartment. At least 2,000 square feet.

On an upper floor. Extremely quiet.

There must be no young people or children, above, or below.

It must be in perfect condition, with--

Aren’t you taking notes?

Oh, I will remember.

I’d rather you take notes.

So, with a lift.

UPTIGHT.

Generous light, but no facing windows.

My client is an exceptional person and he requires something exceptional.

Do you think you can deliver that?

Yes, I think we can find what you’re looking for.

Remove your necktie, please.

I beg your pardon?

He can’t stand the color orange.

Mr. de Montalte?

Please, sir.

You shouldn’t be smoking.

You smoke?

No.

I started when I was 15.

Ever since Joseph Rosenblatt gave me his violin.

He said, “If not for you, do it for him.

“He likes that smell on the fingertips.”

But people ignore smells now.

You wear cologne?

No.

Usually,

people of your sort like to wear cologne.

The cheap variety.

Are you sure you’re a realtor?

Yes, sir.

She tell you what I want?

Yes, sir.

So, what do I want?

You’re testing me, sir.

The little realtor is a clever one.

I have nothing to do, so don’t waste my time.

Come back when you find something good.

And wear a tie. I can’t stand sloppy dressers.

You know,

we’re all made from the same stuff.

A few cells, some sperm.

And lots of accidents.

A biological game of roulette, if you will.

Anyway, we are our own parents. We are our choices.

Sometimes it seems that audiences – that people –

don’t really interest you.

Let’s say mankind isn’t really my kind.

You know, these are sick times.

We’re told music is for something other than to be heard.

You speak of the sacred. You believe in God?

I believe in Mozart.

And I’m very religious.

And yourself, compared to Mozart?

Very small.

I’m an interpreter.

A priest.

He is a prophet.

Why turn your back to play?

If it were up to me,

I would play in total darkness.

Unfortunately, a musician needs to see the conductor.

And yourself? Did you ever want to have children?

Oh, no, please!

I was a very bad son, I would have made a worse father.

You know, we’re all made of the same stuff.

A few cells, some sperm...

And lots of accidents.

- I believe in Mozart. - “I believe in Mozart.”

- And I’m very religious. - “And I’m very religious.”

“I believe in Mozart.” “I’m very religious.”

“Nothing. Nothing.”

“Nothing about childhood--”

“Nothing about childhood interests me. Nothing...”

“I believe in Mozart.”

“Mozart, and I’m very religious.”

“Nothing about childhood interests me.”

“We are our own-- Our own parents.”

“We are our own choices. Our own choices.”

FOR RENT

You’ve done excellent work.

- Truly excellent. Very precise. - Thank you.

I think the best one is Quai aux Fleurs, don’t you think?

Oh, yes, it’s wonderful.

The view of the Seine is fantastic, right?

Amazing, yes.

We’ll see.

It’s very difficult to know what his choice will be.

He used to love to have all the windows open.

In New York,

he even played on the balcony, sometimes.

He could still play.

Not as well, of course. But he could, he is so talented.

I was supposed to be with him that day.

He had a concert in Boston.

It was a 10 hour drive, absolute madness. But he never listened to reason.

He went off the road, and...

within a second, the car was ablaze.

It’s a miracle he got out alive.

You’ll be very happy, I think.

We’ve selected six apartments, all which--

I’m asking you.

Which do you like best?

I think the Quai aux Fleurs apartment has a wonderful view.

- Miss Traven-- - I’m not asking Miss Traven.

I’m asking which you like best.

They’re all exceptional.

For someone who lives with the shades drawn,

way out in the Landes...

the view is not a priority.

The most important thing is...

privacy and quiet.

So I’d take the Rue Alboni place, in Passy.

I’ll take it.

Babette, go back to Paris.

The men will stay and celebrate.

Know why I played with my back turned?

To...

make people listen to you?

That’s what I would say, but...

how many people know music?

How many knew if I’d played well or badly?

In March, 1939,

Prague was an occupied city.

Hitler himself was to come and visit.

So, the Germans patrol through town,

and a little corporal orders

Mendelssohn’s statue be taken down from the Academy of Music.

The soldiers...

obey.

They go up on the roof, but they don’t know Mendelssohn.

So, Wagner gets knocked down.

People, like the soldiers, know nothing.

I was always admired for my Sibelius Concerto.

And it was worthless.

Worthless.

I played with my back turned because...

Because I see through people.

I can read them like a score.

I’ve always hated what I saw.

Babette, for example.

She’s just dying to be abused, mistreated.

So, I torture her.

Like a child with a small animal.

And you...

I look at you and I see nothing.

You’re like a cat.

One forgets you,

then there you are.

“Like a cat.”

“One forgets you, then there you are.”

“You’re like a cat.”

“One forgets you, then there you are.”

Come on, Nick. Come here.

Come here. No! In your spot.

Want the stick?

OK, fetch!

Good boy, Nick.

No!

Want a cookie? Want it?

Broiled salmon.

The broiled salmon.

“Mozart...”

“Mankind isn’t really my kind.”

“Mankind...

“isn’t really my kind.”

Chambard Agency.

Henri de Montalte, for Mr. Chambard.

Hello, Mr. Montalte! How are you?

Like your apartment?

Yes, it’s fine. That’s why I’m calling.

I wanted to compliment your young salesman.

The one with the tight suits and the orange ties.

Right. Sébastien Nicolas.

That’s him.

Very shy, but really very efficient.

Give him a bonus – he’s earned it.

Don’t worry. I take care of my staff.

Good. Because the last time I saw him his shoes were a bit...

You can rely on me.

Thank you for your call.

- See you soon. - Thank you, have a good day.

Henri, listen to me.

Please!

Henri, please.

Go away! I warned you, Clémence!

I said I didn’t want any!

You should’ve gotten rid of it!

Henri...

I am ill.

Leave!

I knew it would end like this!

I’m ill. There’s something in my blood.

Go away!

That was a year ago.

He’s grown a lot since.

He’s in 7th grade at Gréart.

Pratt teaches him at the Conservatoire. Remember?

He’s always known about you.

I’ve never spoken ill of you.

I never said you abandoned me or things like that.

I always said I’d known a great love.

That he was born of that love.

That his father... Well,

that only music mattered to him.

That children weren’t what he was made for.

That his father often said, “If you do something, do it right.”

That otherwise, it’s dishonest.

It’s lying, to yourself and others.

That his father is very honest.

He can’t stand lies.

I told him that’s why we couldn’t stay together.

His father couldn’t be mine since he belonged to music.

He’s very secretive.

But he’s a wonderful boy.

Very brave.

Our address is on the back.

Goodbye, Henri.

...Christ himself. And says, “Well?”

“Who were you? How did it go?”

He says, “I can’t remember.”

“I mean, I was a carpenter...”

...prior to signature. Naturally,

ask for a bump. You’re taking the risk.

Know what he told me?

Excuse me.

What’s up with him?

That was in Rome.

Remember?

Vincent?

Hello, sir.

Hello, Vincent.

Well, I’ll be going now.

What were you doing?

My homework.

What happens April 24th?

The Long Thibaud recital.

Oh, of course.

Of course.

Well, well, well.

What should we do?

Whatever you want.

But you? What do you want?

Nothing in particular.

Well, then...

let’s do nothing in particular in the park.

I always wanted to meet you...

but I think I hate you.

Listen, Vincent,

we’re all made of the same stuff.

Cells, blood, sperm, and chance.

A sort of biological roulette.

And we’re our own parents. We are our choices.

Take yourself...

Your parents are Mendelssohn and Beethoven, more than me.

You don’t realize, but you’re lucky.

It’s a rare privilege to be an orphan.

Like Bach.

Or Wagner.

When I abandoned you,

I gave you a gift.

I removed a burden for you. You’ll understand some day.

You still need to get rid of your mother.

But she won’t last long.

- Hello? - Mr. Nicolas?

- Miss Traven? - I’m sorry to bother you so late,

but Mr. de Montalte would like to see you as soon as possible.

Could you have lunch with him tomorrow at the Monsieur Bleu?

Did he say why?

He’ll tell you himself.

Have a nice evening.

Mr. de Montalte.

Have a seat.

Well, then.

I want you to find me an apartment in Spain.

Seville, or Madrid.

Anywhere. I don’t care.

Understand?

Stupid Traven. I listen to her, and look! Why did I come back!

I’ll fire her.

- Cheer up. - How dare you?

- Look at me. - Get rid of her.

I’m embarrassing? You should be embarrassed!

- Get off! - Get rid of her!

You bastard!

- Let me go! - You’re crazy!

Let her go.

No!

Please.

You know what?

Tell him I want an apology, or I’ll hound him!

- I swear-- - He’s sorry for what he said.

Before you got here, he told me how bad he felt about Vincent.

He told you about my son?

He knows he acted badly.

He didn’t know what to do.

- I’ll talk to him. - Not now.

Give me some time. Trust me.

She never wants to hear of you again.

Excuse me, I’m looking for a movie

with a father-son reunion.

Any particular movie?

No.

A father-son reunion...

Boorman’s The Emerald Forest?

The son is kidnapped by Amazon Indians.

- He grows up alone in the forest. - No.

- Missing, by Costa Gavras. - Who?

Missing. But he finds him dead.

Or else Superman.

The first version, by Richard Donner.

You’ve seen that, right?

No.

That’s fantastic.

Marlon Brando...

Gene Hackman.

The birth, the reunion. Great!

You will travel far,

my little Kal-El.

We will never leave you.

Even in the face of our deaths,

the richness of our lives...

shall be yours.

All that I have, all that I’ve learned, everything I feel...

all of this, and more, I...

I bequeath you, my son.

You’ll carry me inside you...

all the days of your life.

You will make my strength your own,

see my life through your eyes,

as your life will be seen through mine.

You’re not alone, you never will be again.

You’re not alone, you never will be again.

Hello?

Did Mom tell you to call me?

Was it Mom who said to call me?

Miss Traven?

Hi, Sébastien Nicolas from Chambard Agency. Got a minute?

Sure. How are you?

- Fine, and you? - Very well, thank you.

I wanted to check if Mr. de Montalte

still plans to move to Spain?

Well, to be frank, I-I don’t know.

It’s all very complicated right now, because his house in Cap Ferret has been burgled.

Really?

What was taken?

Apparently they didn’t have time to...

- Sébastien? - ...but they made a terrible...

Mr. de Montalte will have to travel there this weekend to meet with the insurance adjuster.

- What a crazy thing! - Yes.

Listen, I’ll call you back next week.

- Thanks for everything. Have a nice day. - Have a nice day.

Where were you? We waited an hour at Millier’s!

I was burgled.

Oh.

You could’ve called. I was all alone!

One second.

Excuse me.

Yes, Henri?

Saturday?

No, of course.

He’ll be thrilled.

Like any child. Don’t trouble yourself.

That sounds perfect.

Of course.

Thank you.

Yes?

It’s us!

Take the stairs. The elevator’s out.

Let’s go, come on!

Come!

Come in.

Are you all right?

Just a problem...

a mishap in the kitchen.

Can I help you?

No, I’m fine. Thanks.

All right,

I’ll be going.

Pick you up at 11.

Yes, all right.

Give me a kiss, honey.

- Have a good evening. - Bye.

They’re white lilies.

She said they’re your favorite.

Yes, great. Thank you so much. Follow me.

Have a seat. I’ll see to the flowers.

You wrote me a letter?

It’s-it’s not for...

Not for now.

Give it to me.

Want me to read it?

“Dear Vincent,

“You were my son, but I haven’t been your father.

“I never did anything for you, because I’m a selfish coward.

“I know you’ve missed me, but try not to regret my absence.

“I’ve never been there for anyone.

“I never knew how to love.

“Today, I leave you the only thing with any value for me.

“My violin.

“It’s been my only confidant, my one true friend.

“I hope it will be yours.

“Take care of it.

“A life without music...

“is no life at all.

“It is, at best, mere existence.

“I could never live without it.

“We live in a world of silence. God’s silence.

“When you play,

“you fill that silence.

“Now I can no longer play and silence overtakes me.

“Never be overtaken by that silence.

“Put music between you and the world.

“It will protect you.

“Play the music.

“It is immortal.”

That’s it.

Excuse me.

Want to go...

have a bite?

- All right. - Come on.

This is a message from Sébastien Nicolas.

When you hear this, I will be gone.

I wanted to say goodbye.

Ah, that’s good.

Well?

Here, buddy.

Morning, sir. It’s Maria!

Morning, sir.

I’m afraid it’s bad news.

I’ll start in the bedroom.

No, Maria. I’m not well. You can go home.

- Sorry, sir. Goodbye. - Goodbye.

...THE DEATH OF MR. SÉBASTIEN NICOLAS.

A FUNERAL SERVICE WILL BE HELD...

We can love

and support someone, but we can’t live for him.

Sébastien was a solitary man.

But a good man.

A fair and honest man,

incapable of spite and hate.

A reserved man,

who loved other people,

but not himself.

I knew Sébastien more than 30 years.

He was my choir boy, in this very church.

But,

as he put it to me only a few weeks ago,

do we ever really know someone?

None of us can know

what made Sébastien want to leave us...

so young,

what made him lose the meaning, the thread of his life.

To all those who loved him,

I would like to read these words.

From...

the Book of Wisdom:

“But the souls of the righteous are in the hand of God,

“and there shall no torment touch them.

“In the sight of the unwise they seemed to die,

“and their departure is taken for misery,

“their going from us

“for utter destruction, but they are in peace.

“Though they be punished in the sight of men,

“yet is their hope full of immortality.”

Mr. de Montalte!

It’s very nice of you to come.

Sébastien would be glad. He liked you very much.

May I introduce his family?

Mrs. Nicolas,

this is Henri de Montalte,

the great violinist, one of your son’s prestigious clients.

- Hello, sir. - My condolences.

- Yes? - Mr. de Montalte?

Capt. Deveaux, Lt. Lionnet, anti-crime unit.

We have a few questions concerning Sébastien Nicolas.

Come in.

Mr. de Montalte?

Come in.

- Hello. - Hello, sir.

Have a seat.

Just checking a few things. Routine for a violent death.

This won’t take long.

I’ve nothing to do and I hate to waste time.

How did you meet Mr. Nicolas for the first time?

Last Christmas. Looking for an apartment.

Did you see him often?

Five or six times.

Talk on the phone?

A few times.

We had a good rapport.

May I?

Sorry.

I can only stand the smell of my own.

Were you and Mr. Nicolas friends?

I have no friends.

Mankind isn’t really my kind.

But you went to his funeral.

One of the last pleasures for people my age.

He called you the day he died.

Saturday, October 19th.

Do you remember what he wanted?

Saturday. Are you sure?

I don’t recall.

A 40-second call at 7:30 PM.

He must’ve gotten my answering machine.

If I’d spoken to him, I’d remember.

And he left no message?

Apparently not.

I’m sorry.

No idea what he wanted?

You’re the last call he made.

The last time you saw him, did he seem worried, upset, depressed?

He was always even-tempered.

Rather...

boring.

He never talked to you about any problem?

Something that was bothering him?

Yes, once.

His taxes.

If anything occurs to you,

don’t hesitate. Thanks for seeing us.

- Thank you. - Leaving on vacation?

- For the weekend, with my son. - Fine.

Enjoy it.

- Goodbye. - Thanks for seeing us.

Close the door behind you.

It’s enormous!

The bedrooms are in back.

Pick any one you want.

- The green one? - Any one you want!

Vincent, it’s ready!

It’s getting cold.

Come and eat.

Remember your first time at Carnegie?

No.

I don’t know. Why?

Or the Vienna Philharmonic?

What were you like when you were younger?

I was young.

Seriously, like at my age?

You want to know if I was good or if I horsed around?

Yeah.

Right, to begin with.

Listen,

I was sort of a loner. I played a lot of violin.

That answer sucks.

Excuse me?

“Violin is hard. Lonely. Not like soccer.”

They all say that!

- No reason to get angry. - Yes, it is!

Every time I ask a question...

you never answer!

What is it, Vincent?

Every time I get near you...

you brush me aside.

That’s not it.

Then what is it?

I try to be as honest as I can with you,

but there are some things I can never give you.

Why?

Because I’m not...

I’m no longer a great violinist.

I’m no--

No longer the man Rosenblatt admired. No longer the man...

who loved your mother.

I don’t know who you were,

but...

I know you are my father.

And your music?

How’s the recital coming?

Fine.

Really fine, or sort of?

Well...

I don’t know.

I’ve practiced the Mendelssohn concerto and I think I have it,

it’s different in a concert.

Of course.

The stress. Noise, movement...

I don’t know how I’ll react.

Let’s check it out.

Excuse me?

Let’s go practice.

Use your bow all the way, follow through.

Like throwing a ball.

You don’t just stop, you follow through.

There you go. Finish your gesture.

And especially...

- You want my secret? - Yes.

You use your middle finger. On the bow. Not the index finger.

You know why?

The index finger always forces.

With the middle finger, you can’t force the music. Get it?

Oysters good?

- Amazing. - Good.

It’s us! Hi, Mom.

- Good weekend? - Great!

And you?

Great, too.

Got time for tea?

Sure, why not?

How was your weekend?

Fine.

I got a visit from two policemen who know you.

They said they visited you on Friday.

- Capt. Deveaux? - Exactly!

What did he want from you?

He wanted to know if I knew a real estate agent.

Someone named Sébastien Nicolas,

who supposedly called me once, for ten minutes.

I said it was probably a mistake.

But that surprised them.

As they were leaving, they saw your picture.

They asked if I knew you.

I said you’re Vincent’s dad, and you were away.

What I still don’t get...

is why they think he called me.

He didn’t.

I did.

Sébastien is the man you saw at the restaurant.

After he spoke to you,

he explained. I used his phone to call you.

I’ll call the detective and explain tomorrow.

I didn’t know they investigate suicides.

Neither did I.

Want a gift wrap?

No, thank you.

You deliver, right?

Yes, of course.

- What address? - Capt. Deveaux,

Police HQ.

INVESTIGATION FILE

40 SECS. LAST CALL 7:30 PM TO MONTALTE.

HENRI DE MONTALTE’S APT. ON 5TH FLOOR. NICOLAS’ STUDIO ON 7TH.

Tonio, pick it up!

- Capt. Deveaux? - Yes?

Hold for the DA’s office.

Antoine, this is Sandra. Put your team together.

We move on the violinist at 6 AM. Search of premises and arrest.

Charges: suspicion of murder in the case of Sébastien Nicolas.

You got that?

What is it, Henri?

Clémence, I know it’s odd,

but please listen without interruption or questions.

Take this.

Inside is a request for paternal recognition.

It’s legal.

Your signature is all that’s needed.

You’ll also find title transfers

for the Landes house, the apartment,

and some accounts.

All in Vincent’s name.

As of now, if anything happens to me, it’s all his.

What could happen to you?

What’s going on?

Goodbye, Clémence.

Give Vincent my love.

Don’t leave him. Please.

Mr. de Montalte?

Mr. de Montalte?

Police!

Antoine?

PLEASE LEAVE MY DOG WITH CLÉMENCE CORNELI. REGARDS.

Pack it up.

Pack it up!

ELIZABETH, I’VE RUINED YOUR LIFE ENOUGH. YOU’RE FIRED.

It’s true what the police say.

You feel better after confessing.

It’s a relief.

You accept yourself.

I killed Sébastien Nicolas

because I couldn’t stand his eyes.

His constant presence around me.

That way he had of looking at me,

studying me, spying on me.

Because he tried to keep me from my son,

who yearned for a father for 12 years.

Who would be so cruel as to deny him?

I made Sébastien Nicolas disappear,

and I don’t regret it.

He didn’t want to live.

I set him free.

It wasn’t premeditated, but I don’t regret it.

I hid things, because I knew the police wouldn’t understand.

They’d try to convict me.

That’s what they’ve done.

Well?

Don’t you hug your father?

That was wonderful. I’m very proud of you.

Prison is an incredible place.

No more privacy, no more responsibility.

No more dignity, no more hope.

Prison condemns you to be nothing but a body.

But the body is illusory.

I’ve lost two fingers.

Am I that much less myself?

We are not what we are.

Reality is not truth.

I was sentenced to 10 years.

My lawyer says I’ll be out in five, if I behave myself.

I’ll behave myself.

I’ve always been a good boy.

I’ve always waited obediently, but now I have something to wait for.

I’ve become someone else.

I’ve become myself.

I’m different.

I’m like everybody else.

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