All language subtitles for Nymphomaniac.Vol.I.2013.Directors.Cut.BRRip.x264-RARBG

If you know,

I'm fine.

The hand of your hand feeds my blood.

Hear me.

Hear me.

Hold me.

Hold me.

Call for one. I'll be right back.

Can I steal you?

No.

No.

No what?

I don't need an ambulance.

I can clearly see you do.

I'll call for one.

In that case, I'll be up and gone before
you have the time to come back.

That will hurt.

That's possible.

But it doesn't matter to me.

I assume you don't want me to call the
police either.

Yes, that's exactly right.

Is there anything you want?

I don't sell tea in the street.

You walking?

Yeah.

I even bought a cake.

Here's the pajama.

Thank you.

Made up the bed for you.

Clean sheets.

Not my coat.

It smells rather badly.

It's my coat.

The smell won't come off anyway.

It's your coat.

Would you take sugar?

No, thank you.

What would happen?

Were you robbed?

It's my own fault.

I'm just a bad human being.

I've never met a bad human being. Well,
you have now.

Do you want to talk about it?

to start.

Why is that ridiculous fish all cane
there?

It's a fly.

I caught a fish with it once. A rather
big one.

Strangely enough.

Fly fishing is about tying feathers and
other things to a hook.

So it resembles nothing the fish likes
to eat.

And then because the fly is very light,
you have to have a line that is heavy.

It creates velocity when you cast.

May you fish a little?

What? Some.

to catch a lot more.

When I was young, I had a book I
worshipped.

It was an old book by Isaac Walton
called The Complete Angler.

It was like a romantic nature Bible to
me.

Maybe I know where to start.

But if you're to understand, I'll...
I'll have to tell you the whole story.

And it'll be long.

To begin with the bait, I discovered my
cunt as a two -year -old.

Cunt is a very strong word.

Let's call it Pandora's box, then.

No,

no, no.

Cunt is better.

So, I was a nymphomaniac.

Wait a moment.

Nobody can be a nymphomaniac when
they're only two years old. I don't

the strictest God would see anything
else than a child's normal behavior.

What about fetuses?

It's common knowledge that fetuses often
touch their genital organs.

Can a fetus somehow be sinful?

Why not?

Not according to any religion, I know.

Unless it's an original sin, that's
factual.

Or perhaps according to a religion that
doesn't exist yet.

According to a god that hasn't yet
manifested himself.

But then you can imagine anything.

At an early age, I was mechanically
inclined.

Kinetic energy, for example, has always
fascinated me.

And my friend, let's call her Bea,
always came up with the ideas.

Playing frogs was one of Bea's classics.

I loved my father very much.

He was a doctor.

My mother's name was Catherine.

My father called her Kay.

I suppose she was what you'd call a cold
bitch.

She always had her back turned when she
played solitaire.

I hated solitaire.

When we had P .E.

I'd climb up into the ropes and hang
there for ages, with the rope between my

legs.

The sensation, we called it.

I remember very distinctly this word,
sensation.

Perhaps the only difference between me
and other people was that I've always

demanded more from the sunset.

More spectacular colors when the sun hit
the horizon.

That's my own sin.

Why are you insisting that children are
sinful?

Not children.

Me.

I don't see sin anywhere.

But then I'm not religious.

That's because you don't know the rest
of the story.

And by the way, I'm not religious
either.

Why would you take the most unempathetic
aspect of religion, such as the concept

of sin, and let it survive beyond
religion?

I don't understand this self -hatred.

That's what I said.

You wouldn't understand.

No, I'm... I'm sorry, I'll shut up.

Nervous. Pluendous.

Nervous. Doubtless.

Glitorious.

When the ash tree was created, it made
all the other trees in the forest

jealous.

It was the most beautiful tree.

You couldn't say anything bad about it.

It was the world tree in Norse
mythology.

Remember Odin?

He hung from the ash tree Yggdrasil for
nine days in order to gain insight.

The ash tree had the strongest wood.

Then in the winter, the ash tree lost
all of its leaves.

All the trees noticed its black buds and
started laughing.

Oh, look.

The ash trees had its fingers in the
ashes.

See?

You can always tell the ash tree in
winter by the black buds.

Now... Now this is a lime tree leaf.

Remember? I forgot about the lime tree.

I've told you a hundred times.

My dad loved telling me about the trees
and their leaves and considered it part

of a good education.

He especially loved the childish
educational stories he told to help me

what I had learned.

I knew how much he loved telling those
stories, so sometimes I pretended I'd

forgotten them.

Originally, the lime tree's leaves were
round.

A fox had her den beneath its roots
where she had four cubs.

One day she went out looking for food
for them.

There was a hunt in the forest. She was
shot.

Wounded.

She crawled back to the den where she
and the four cubs died.

This made the lime tree so sad.

From then on, the lime tree decided to
have...

Heart -shaped leaves.

Oh, yes.

That's right.

Heart -shaped.

Am I boring you?

No.

I'm just looking forward to how you will
get fishing weaved into your tail.

You start with the fly on the wall
there.

It's called a nymph.

We'll tie in elegantly with your
discussion about nymphomania.

A nymph is an early stage in the life of
an insect.

As a quite young nymph, it was
imperative for me to get rid of my

What for?

I kind of knew this boy, Jay, who had a
moped.

So in my eyes, he was rather
sophisticated.

I was 15 and perhaps my girlish romantic
expectations were a bit high.

But he had good, strong hands.

I liked his hands.

Hello?

If I ask you to take my virginity, would
that be a problem?

No, that's not a problem.

Fucking coverage.

I just can't work it out. Imagine that.

Not very good.

Hmm?

Not very good.

No, it bloody isn't. It was the whole
idea of having a moped.

You should probably take off your
knickers, yeah?

He shoved his cock inside me and humped
me three times.

Then he turned me over like a sack of
passages.

Then he humped me five times in the ass.

I never forgot those two human eating
numbers.

I mean, five.

Those are Fibonacci numbers.

That may be.

In any case, it hurt like hell.

I swore I'd never sleep with anyone
again.

But of course, that only lasted a short
while.

And now to get back to your fishing.

A couple of years later...

I was at my friend B's and as always she
had a new idea financed by her younger

brother's piggy banks which she
regularly emptied.

We put on clothes later known as the
Fuck Me Now clothes.

The idea was a competition.

We were to go on a train trip.

Bee said there was no need for tickets.

The one who had fucked the most men when
we reached the destination would win

the property quiz.

Get some water running.

Head out on the highway.

Looking for adventure.

And whatever comes our way.

Yeah, darling, don't make it hard.
Interrupt here.

What you were doing when you walked down
that corridor, you were reading the

river.

of energy and to hide from the prey.

Where the fish hides in the stream
entails a very complicated hierarchy.

The topography decides where the most
attractive places are and the biggest

choose the best positions.

What do I do?

Mile, make eye contact.

But what if it doesn't work?

If you have to talk mum to our lots of
work questions, if you want more than a

yes or no answer, then it'll just happen
its own. You just take them to the

lavatory and you have sex with them.

What if it's not?

Then you just think of the bag of
chocolate sweeties.

What time is it?

Um...

Where

do you come from?

I don't know.

He knows where the lavatory is.

Well, if you take a right, you will
arrive at a lavatory at the end of the

At the same time, it is so cleverly
arranged that if you take a left turn,

will also arrive at a lavatory, since at
the end of the next car there is also

one.

I'm going to hang with that.

That's a very clear parallel to fishing
in a stream.

As it happens, either none of the fish
are feeding, or they all feed at the

time. They go into feeding frenzy, or
bite.

And then just as suddenly as it started,
it stopped.

It's observable, but it's highly
unpredictable.

And it has to do with, I don't know,
weather, parametric pressure, maybe some

fish psychology.

Is that possible?

Anyway, the fish most rarely bite at the
beginning of a light rain. And I think

that's because they feel safe when they
swim in the stream.

Because they can't be seen from above.

The water surface.

But then it started again.

Although a bit more slowly.

Yeah. I think I know how.

Because fly fishing can be done in
several phases.

And if the fish stop biting, you move on
to phase two.

And in phase two, you not only imitate
an insect, but an insect in trouble.

You pull the line. You tug it.

Irregularly. So the fish gets the
impression that they're dealing with an

injured and easy prey.

And then helplessly let the fly float
down the river again.

And then half -heartedly make a few
jumps forward again.

It can be done very elegantly.

What do you feel sorry about?

I'm just not feeling very well today.

What could be so bad?

I can't talk about it right now.

Can I sit here for a while?

Yeah, sure.

Is it better now?

But you were right.

Bessie.

I would have told her she's very young.

She's getting a close family member.

You could say that.

She's my dwarf hamster.

Dwarf hamster?

You can't be serious. Well, what was I
to do?

And then I did have a dwarf hamster when
I was young.

But you were very close to her.

Not at all. A bloody nascent.

Well, hamster, that's not bad.

Would have been worse if it were a
person.

Don't say that.

I'm extremely fond of my hamster.

Yes, I think that's a rather cynical
thing to say about Betty.

Yes, I had made the cage nice and cosy
for her when I got her.

Betty liked that.

Betty was excited.

One of nature's most meaningless
creatures.

You're aware that the choice of a dwarf
hamster possibly suggests certain sexual

connotations. I can see that now, but it
was really not a conscious choice.

How long does a dwarf hamster actually
live?

Months? Years?

This life is much too short.

Will you show me where the lavatory is?

I have to blow my nose.

Just saying, we were running out of
subjects.

And B was ahead on points, which led us
to F's first class compartment.

Tickets, please.

Thank you.

Ladies.

Tickets.

I think I might have lost it.

Perhaps.

Drop yours as well, did you?

I haven't bought a ticket for your
shitty train.

It's so bloody slow. We've still been at
the end of the track half an hour ago.

Well, if the dollars are delayed, you
still need a ticket, sweetheart.

Eight pounds each, please.

I accidentally tore it up.

Can't I spend my paper for perhaps a
paper?

Have another one. Oh, great idea.

Oh, that one disappeared too.

You always just get the police to
collect your payment in the next

about that?

Now, let's just take it easy here, shall
we?

Apparently the young lady has left
without any money. If it's okay with

like to pay for that ticket. No, sir,
it's not.

Just leave your money where it is. We'll
let the police deal with these two.

Actually, we did have sort of an
agreement that I was to pay it.

Two first -class tickets.

Two first -class ladies.

Enjoy the rest of your journey.

Ticket, please.

Now that you've been so nice to us, we'd
like to be nice to

you too.

Well, that's very kind of you, but
there's no need.

I mean that.

You have to split them up into whether
they have a goal and a mission or not.

That man doesn't.

Well, I already lost anyway.

I'm willing to give you five extra
points.

If you can get that one in there.

I decided, perhaps a bit desperately,
that the only thing standing between me

and the bag of chocolate sweets was an
unequivocal provocation of this man.

Excellent. An induced take.

When all other attempts fail, the
dramatic provocation can get an

completely passive face to bite.

A salmon or a trout, for example.

eats itself fat while in salt water, and
then basically has no need to eat, as

it makes its way upstream to the
spawning grounds.

They're not hungry, but they will react
instinctively to the right provocation,

which would not be a fly, but for
instance, a brightly colored wobbler,

preferably red, served immediately in
front of the fish.

The very best is one we call the Finnish
weapon, the so -called Rappala.

I don't know if it's comparable, but I
decided in any case to find out why he

hadn't taken the bait and to use my
psychological abilities, which Bea, in

opinion, didn't possess to the same
degree.

You've bought a gift.

Yes.

It's for my wife.

No gifts for the children?

No.

We don't have any, actually.

Well, you seem rather well -to -do.

You travel further class, and you bought
us our tickets.

Why then not buy a decent gift for your
wife?

I can see it comes from the station.

Of course I should have bought her
something.

Something better.

Let's just say I was suddenly in a hurry
to get home.

Why would a man like you, such an
orderly life, suddenly have to hurry?

It had to do with family.

My wife and I have decided that we... We
miss having children,

after all.

And that if we are to have children, it
has to be now.

So my wife called yesterday to say that
she started ovulating.

And all signs point to maximum fertility
precisely tonight.

You see, that's why I bought her a gift
at the station.

I had to get a ticket home as quickly as
possible.

Well, I understand now.

What is it you understand?

Why you didn't have sex with us.

It wasn't because I didn't want to.

Are you saving your sperm?

It's for weeks.

I mean, you and your wife seem to be at
an age where every attempt to

become pregnant has to be taken very
seriously.

Right now, my sperm quality is at its
peak. I'm told.

I'm begging you.

Eating is horny as hell.

You wouldn't give up your life.

Ugh! Ugh!

In your case, it wasn't the taste of a
madeleine cake moistened with lime

blossom tea, but the combination of
chocolate and sperm.

What?

There was a piece of culturally
blasphemic digression.

It's a story about memory, how the
combination of two flavors set off a

memories.

So oral sex...

became, in the eye of the angler, your
finished weapon.

Is that your only comment?

What else do you want me to say?

That I behaved reprehensibly.

That already my actions exemplify that
I'm a terrible human being.

That's not the way I see it.

On the contrary, I saw it as a...

It's a very pleasurable and humorous
story.

Not at all sad or weighed down by sin,
like all that talk about Pandora's box.

I've consciously used and hurt others
for the sake of my own satisfaction.

And what I've told you so far only
begins to suggest that. But when you

story, you were cheerful, full of humor.

It wasn't as if you embarked on some
tragic tale.

Oh, that's the way.

I've always loved the chills at the
start of a fever, knowing only too well

sickness would soon follow.

The only thing you've done, except
giving a few people an experience to

remember, is that you relieved us from
this load.

Some youthful hubris.

And I read somewhere that...

If you keep the load too long, the sperm
will die.

Or worse, degenerate.

Maybe thanks to you, Mr. S and his wife
now have a healthy and well -functioning

child.

I discovered my power as a woman and
used it without any concern for others.

That's completely unacceptable.

Oh, darling.

Don't you little darling me.

All I wanted to say was that if you have
wings, why not fly?

Allow me to digress.

I read a book about Tarkovsky and
helicopters, where the author stressed

fact that in order to take off, you tilt
the helicopter forward, and it looks

like you're trying to force the
helicopter down into the ground, but the

is the contrary.

As the velocity takes the helicopter,
and we set up the mirror.

The pilots say the helicopter wants to
fly.

It's like when you're in a glider plane
and suddenly you're lifted because of

the spontaneous emission of thermals.

Thermals is when the sun is warming up a
field and it emits a thermal

bubble of warm air that rises.

These aircraft, they want to fly just a
little unpredictable way.

You flew on that train.

That surprised you.

This is beginning to amuse me.

I don't even know your name.

My name is Jo.

What a fucking ridiculous name.

It's Jewish.

You said you weren't religious.

No, but my great -grandfather was.

My parents gave me the name of a sort of
sentimental association to Judaism.

Why let the sentimental part of
religion, as you said, outlive religion

itself?

No point.

But we've always been a designer.

Which is not the same as being anti
-Semitic.

Certain political powers try to come in.

Telling one means the happy one.

So, Peter?

Well, I suppose I am.

In my own way.

Even if I'm the kind of person who cut
the nails of the right hand first.

What does that mean?

Well, I divide humanity into two groups.
The people who cut the nails on the

left -hand first and the people who cut
the nails on the right -hand first.

My theory is that the people who cut the
nails on the left -hand first, they're

more light -hearted.

They have a tendency to enjoy life more
because they go straight for the easiest

task and save their difficulties for
later.

So what do you do?

Always the left hand first.

I don't think there's a choice.

Go for the pleasure first, always.

And then when you've done the left hand,
only the right hand remains.

That's the easiest one left.

I never thought of it like that.

Never too old.

Never too old to learn.

That's rugelach.

Mm -hmm. Yeah, the Jewish cake.

There's that sentimentality again.

Oh, but it's more than rugelach.

It's rugelach thirst with a cake fork.

Rugelach is... in my opinion, is pastry,
which there is no excuse for eating

with a cake fork.

To serve it with a cake fork is
irritatingly unmanly, not to say

feminine.

However, it can bring us further with
the story.

I also knew someone who consumed arugula
every day, almost richly,

with a cake fork.

And although we'll be jumping a bit in
time, I have to tell you about Jerome.

As far as I can see, the next chapter
doesn't contain as direct an accusation

against my person as the rest of the
story.

But as you've read a great deal,
apparently, you know that in a story

have to be good before they can be bad.

The chapter...

will also make a sentimental soul like
you happy. It contains observations on

the subject of love.

Can I tell you something?

Sure. Sure?

Yeah. Yeah, sure.

It might not be important to you, but it
is to me. It is to me.

I've never had an orgasm before.

Really?

You're my first one.

You don't know how happy that makes me.

I love you.

You're my friend.

Well, I have to admit, quite a lot of
girls say that.

The train trip had increased my
appetite.

And soon Bea and I started a club that
we called The Little Flock.

Bea, of course, took the lead as she was
the most daring of us.

She was raised Catholic.

I'm sure you're familiar with the
practices of the Catholic Church.

That's interesting.

The music.

The interval between B and F.

The tritone. The devil's interval.

It was banned from music in the Middle
Ages.

Well, the vacuum cleaner invented it.

She took piano lessons.

The vacuum cleaner?

The vacuum cleaner possessed a special
talent for floppy cogs.

She had some kind of vacuum in her cunt.

I was imagining something like that.

14th of the 8th.

I was at a place called The Donkey, the
boys' daring university hangout.

I approached the stupidest one of the
lot and asked for directions to the

underground. He studied literature.

I told him I read a lot and that I
really admired people that chose to

subjects in depth.

As I said, he was very stupid.

He told me all about Secret Guard.

I nodded, smiled.

And then he asked if we could go
elsewhere. I mean, the idiot thought

pulled me after five minutes of his
bullshit.

I told him I was on my period.

And took out his cock and gave him a
handjob.

Ugly little shriveled cock, the type
four skin.

When I pulled it back, it sort of
collapsed, but it worked in the end.

University boys are disgusting.

And then I jacked him off until he
shook.

In that way, they do, you know.

just before they come.

Then I let go of his cock and got up.

I left him standing up against the wall
with his pants around his ankles looking

stunned.

Now, Bea's message wasn't exactly
representational.

She just had to be the tough one.

It was directed at the men.

It was about fucking and about having
the right to be horny.

We masturbated together, that kind of
thing.

But it was rebellious.

We weren't allowed to have boyfriends.
No fucking the same guy more than once.

You said you were rebellious.

What did you rebel against?

Love.

Love?

We were committed to combat the love
-fixated society.

I really believed in our little flock,
but of course that was naive of me.

Over time, even the strongest couldn't
stay true to our manifest.

Third of the fifth, my third intercourse
this week again with Alex. Third?

Haven't we stated that we fuck each guy
once?

Yes, but he was rather sweet.

Sweet?

Well, you know, sexy.

Well, then say sexy.

Squeeze my earlobes.

Earlobes. Great.

What else did he squeeze?

I don't think you can understand, Alex.

I don't want to. Our relationship.

Relationship. There you are.

The way you're describing it, which
should be full of love.

It's just a nauseating analysis of his
future abilities as a father to your

child. You think you know everything
about sex?

The secret ingredient to sex is love.

For me, love was just lust with jealousy
added.

Everything else was... Total nonsense.

For every hundred crimes committed in
the name of love, only one is committed

the name of sex.

That's quite a statement.

Well, it'll strengthen my wish for a
serious education.

Why are you smiling?

I just pictured how an education would
be conveyed in your storytelling.

There's nothing to smile about.

Oh, I understand that.

So what kind of education did you get?

I began studying medicine like my
father.

Today, we are going to perform the
procedure that's called an abortion.

We open up our cervical channel to enter
the uterus and to gain access to the

feces, for which we use the so -called
hega sticks.

We enter the vagina tract and go into
the cervical channel.

We start with a small side stick, cause
a minimum of damage to the feces, and

then we increase the sizes.

But it was harder and harder for me to
concentrate, so I studied less and less,

till finally I dropped out.

My dad was very disappointed when I
stopped.

But it was the only time I saw my mother
really smile when she said, what did I

tell you?

So instead I began to look for a job.

It turned out it was hard to get a job
that paid even halfway decently.

I didn't really know how to do anything.

So I didn't have high hopes when I
applied for a position as an assistant

printing house.

So could you tell me a little bit more
about your background?

Education -wise?

Well, I finished high school.

and decided to study medicine.

But I didn't finish.

I know it sounds a bit pointless coming
here. Right. I just really need a job.

And I've tried everywhere. I don't
usually give jobs to people just because

need one.

What about secretarial skills?

Do you have any of those?

No, I didn't think you needed skills.

You didn't think you needed skills.

for this position as a secretary?

No.

Can you open an envelope?

Yes, I think I can open an envelope.

Well, I'm glad to hear that.

I shall discuss this conversation with
Mr Jerome, my boss.

Do you think there's a chance?

I doubt it.

Well, apparently, having absolutely no
experience is absolutely fine for this

job. You've got it.

Does that mean I should start tomorrow?

Yeah, I suppose it does.

Good morning.

Right.

Yeah?

Good morning, sir. Good morning. I just
wanted to introduce you to our new

junior secretary. Jo?

I believe you wanted to explain her work
duties. This is the new junior

secretary, sir. Please, can I have a
coffee?

Yes, of course, sir. Thank you.

Hi.

Joanne.

Your first love.

I bet you didn't think I'd make
something of myself, right?

And now here I sit.

Director's chair of M &J Moors Limited.

Yeah, it's quite surprising.

Surprising?

The kind from God.

You know, I've thought about you often
since then.

Have you thought of me?

Usually, you know, my uncle sits here.
Mm -hmm. But he's got a bit of a tummy

problem, so he's at the spa taking long
baths, drinking lots of water, poor guy.

And no one knows for how long.

So now I'm with Jay, and I'm with Jay
more sensitive.

How about that?

We print cards and envelopes, you know,
and stuff like that.

It's a bloody complicated business.

Yeah. I don't understand a word of it.

How much are you around?

Yeah? There?

Oh, look, there you are. Good girl.

Are you telling me to do a good job?
I'll say, good job, Liz.

Thank you, sir.

What's her name?

Liz. Good job, Liz.

Good job, Liz. Good job, Liz.

He doesn't do this fast.

It's done.

Yes. Why, isn't there an alarm?

To which?

Isn't there? Alarm, right, yes.

We're thinking about that.

You look just as great all these years
later.

Aren't I?

No.

No, Jerome, this won't work. Which won't
work?

This.

Why not?

You're not really my type.

What's this going to be?

Yes.

All right.

Give me a hand.

Are you a farmer's group?

Oh! You okay?

Yeah.

Why didn't you have sex with him?

You must have had sex in a lift before.

I'm not quite sure.

I've tried lots of idiots.

Including worse idiots than him.

Of course I...

I regretted that it had been him back
then.

But that's just sentimental drivel.

And I'm not sentimental.

I suppose he'd fired you, then.

No. If he had fired me, then he would
have lost.

As I didn't recall anyone having defined
my work duties, I decided to clean up

in order to smooth the waters.

Are you cold?

No, sir.

What have you done?

I cleaned up.

You cleaned up?

It was quite messy.

Liz? Yes, sir?

She cleaned up?

I know. I didn't know, sir. I was away
from my desk. Are you completely mad?

What is the tea and pastry doing here?

I thought that's where you wanted to...
Stop!

You're not supposed to think.

I don't pay you to think, do I? This is
a do -over.

Do it. Right.

Pick it up, take it outside, and do it
again.

One moment.

Come in.

Would now be a good time for some clean
cake? Sure, why not?

What the fuck is my cake for?

Cake for?

Right. Well, I would have got you one,
but it just feels inappropriate.

Feminine.

during their rampage through Russia to
separate the men from the boys, or

the bourgeoisie from the proletariat,
they brought a boy.

And before burning down a house, they
sent him in to make sure they had cake

us.

That's not true.

I don't know the story first, Dad.

Hello.

Hi. Hi.

I was wondering if you could help me.

Suddenly you've gone very dirty.

Please put your dirty fingers on there.

Maybe we should wash your hands.

Better.

You must be very talented.

Yeah, sure.

You see, here's got a stain.

If you'd asked Jerome, he would have
said that I was the one who had declared

war.

Many times he'd take me into town just
so I could hold his coat.

There. Where?

There, behind that green car.

It's not being a... It is a plenty of
space.

I saw it. It's not enough space.

I'm telling you, there's plenty of
space.

No. A small space would fetch a long
path.

Can I try?

Can you try?

I'm a wizard at this. I just tried it.
It's not enough space, Jo. You just saw

me do it. It's not enough space.

Okay?

Can I try?

You want to try?

Why not?

It was about this time that a dramatic
change happened inside of me.

I could suddenly see a kind of order in
the mess.

Are you just standing here looking?

Yeah. I've begun to like his mess.

How do you mean?

Well, these are all things placed by
Jerome.

I mean, by Jerome's hands.

Sounds to me like you would like to be
handled by Mr Jerome.

Darling, you're in love with him.

It was all very, very wrong.

I wanted to be one of Jerome's things.

I wanted to be picked up and put down
again and again.

I wanted to be treated by his hands
according to some sophisticated

that I didn't understand.

He had strong hands.

Yes, but now it was no longer just about
his hands.

It's as if everything about him was
different.

Which, of course... It wasn't, and I
knew that in my head, and I scolded

for seeing him in this new light.

Love is blind.

No, no, no, it's worse.

Love taught things.

Or even worse, love is something you've
never asked for.

The erotic was something I asked for, or
even demanded of men.

But this idiotic love...

I felt humiliated by it and all the
dishonesty that follows.

The erotic is about saying yes.

Love appeals to the lowest instincts
wrapped up in lies.

How do you say yes when you mean no and
vice versa?

I'm ashamed of what I became.

But it was beyond my control.

You know what you're doing now.

No, what am I doing?

You're defending your personality.

I thought the point was to reveal it.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

Thank you meaning it's all.

You can go now.

Goodbye, Joe.

At this time, I took up walking again.

You walked in the forest.

Yes, I walked in the forest.

The forest is my childhood.

I took the same walk again and again,

right turn after the gatehouse and right
again by the ash tree, which has the

most beautiful leaves in the forest, and
further on past the lady with her

poodle.

and the old man on the bench.

I couldn't free myself of the image of
Jerome and his careless elegance.

And during this time, when I was with
other men, I forbade them to

touch my body with their hands.

And soon, I stopped having sex
altogether.

I tried to meet him all the time.

I found out where he lived, but of
course never dared ring his doorbell.

I even started humiliating myself on
purpose in order for him to notice me.

You broke a taillight.

I did.

I thought you were such a wizard at
parking.

So did I.

It'll be deducted from your salary.

It's a long car.

I worked for a long time on a letter in
which I told him about my feelings for

him. but couldn't bring myself to hand
it over.

A month would pass before I had built up
enough courage

to deliver it.

Well, I've written him a letter, after
all.

Do you think that the letter's a bad
idea?

No, I think it's the right thing to do.

I'm just... I think maybe you should
wait until Friday.

Why?

He's always in a good mood on Fridays.

OK.

I'm sorry, isn't this Jerome's office?

I'm happy to say that this never has
been and never will be Jerome's office.

But my nephew has been standing in for
me while I've been unwell.

Was that a letter for him?

Yes. Give it to me and I'll make sure he
gets it.

Can't promise when that might be, as
he's long gone.

How the young financed their
irrepressible desire for travel is a

So he's gone?

Deserted us, yes.

Raving about a trip around the world and
married and all.

Married?

Married, yes.

Flown the coop with my secretary, Liz.

And your job?

It turned out that Jerome's uncle
demanded a bit more knowledge about the

business. I see.

As for evidence of you being a bad human
being, there wasn't much to go on in

this chapter.

Yes, as I said.

At least superficially.

I suppose you were jealous.

No, I wasn't jealous.

I didn't know that feeling.

It's almost superhuman not to feel
jealousy.

But that was the end of love, then.

Well, maybe not quite as simple.

But more about that later, as they say
in the novels.

And Jerome just disappeared.

Yes. Though I tried to keep him in my
own way, mentally, as I masturbated

on the train amongst other people.

You masturbated on the train, on the
seat?

Yes, of course.

And that's possible?

Easily. You just put your coat in your
lap.

It can be done silently, without
expression.

The only thing that could give me away,
and mostly to women, was my open mouth

when I came.

I did a jigsaw puzzle.

A jigsaw puzzle?

I found details in the other passengers
that reminded me of Jerome.

But in the long run, I couldn't hold on
to the details of him, no matter how

hard I tried.

So you could say that in a way, Jerome
followed you as a kind of silhouette.

Yes, but gradually disappearing as a
sexual being.

Maybe that's how it is with memory. You
remember silhouettes.

The essential.

But that's not necessarily a bad thing.

Of course, the silhouettes in the
winter, the trees are difficult to tell

My father wrestled courageously with his
flora and tree -type guides.

It's actually the souls of the trees we
see in the winter.

In the summer, everything is green and
idyllic, but in the winter, the branches

and the trunks, they all stand out.

Just look at how crooked they all are.

The branches have to carry all the
leaves into the sunlight.

It's one long struggle for survival.

My father surprised me by calling the
naked trunks the souls of the trees.

A perfect thought that was rare for him.

As by his own account, he preferred the
empirical sciences.

And after Jerome?

I reacted, um, well, I could say,
aggressively.

How?

By identifying my hunt for men.

You know these supermarket doors that
open and close by way of some kind of

sensor?

Now compare these doors to my cunt and
add an extraordinarily sensitive sensor.

My sensitive door opening gave me an
opportunity to develop my morphological

studies from knees to genitals.

I embarked on a trip through what in the
lingo of children's books one might

call the country of the big black cocks,
the country

of the small yellow cocks, and so on.

And most of all, I battle my way through
an untold number of circumcised corpse.

By the way, did you know that if you
combine all the foreskin cut off through

history, it would reach to mass and back
again?

By now, I had built up a sizeable circle
of men and was starting to have trouble

remembering who was who. Hello, Pete.

One of me.

It's Fisher.

I'm lying here, thinking of you and what
you said.

I'm not angry at all if that's what
you're thinking.

Hi, Joe. It's Rob again. I had a really
good time seeing you. Give me a call.

Hi, Joe. I left a couple of messages.

Is everything all right?

I quickly gave up trying to remember the
individual relationships.

It was impossible, and impossible to
predict what they wanted to hear.

So I invented a method.

It was all based on chance.

A one meant an overly loving answer.

A two, not quite as passionate but still
positive.

And so on up to five, which was a
complete rejection.

And six, no answer at all.

The trick with this method was that I
didn't have to worry about the

relationships, but instead became
completely unpredictable, which of

drove the men even wilder.

Hey, I did it for me.

Listen, I've given us a lot of thought
and I've come to the conclusion that

we're done. Bye.

I was just wondering if you wanted to
come back and maybe we can do something

nice.

Hi, Patrick.

It's Jo.

Look, I had a really lovely time with
you and I'd love for you to come back.

you're interested, let me know. Bye.

I really don't think we match and you're
quite annoying.

So I don't want to see you anymore.
Please don't call back.

That sounds rather stressful.

Yes, actually it was.

But fortunately, I had my little book of
comfort.

When I needed comfort or peace, I took
out my herbarium and looked at my

favourite leaves.

Ash, trembling aspen and lime.

When you're dealing with a larger group
of lovers, as I was, there will

typically be a difference in their
qualities.

H was a sticky bastard.

I had invited A for dinner, as he was my
favourite.

While H, who was present, had become
quite irritating.

You have to leave.

I've got guests for dinner.

But he's not coming until seven.

No.

Seven isn't that far away.

Do you love me?

A was to arrive at seven, and I needed
to get H out of there.

I love you too much.

You keep promising, but I understand now
that you'll never leave your family for

my sake.

It's sad, but... it's your choice.

It's not satisfying for me that I can't
have you completely.

Which is why we can't see each other any
longer.

Goodbye.

My darling, I'm yours.

How about that?

Hello. Can I apologize?

We had promised not to come up.

We just wanted to make sure he got here
safely. Now that he's made the big

decision.

May the children see him inside?

They say that the experience of saying
goodbye can be very useful later when

dealing with trauma.

What a nice place.

It's so bohemian.

We used to have a place like this before
we were married.

Before the children.

Me and my husband.

Oh, I'm sorry.

He isn't anymore.

Is he?

It's all so new and confusing.

He wanted to give us everything, but,
uh... Of course, we couldn't accept

That's right.

You need the car key.

No, I don't need the car.

Oh, yes, you do.

He likes the car.

We'll get the bus home.

Children might as well get used to
public transport now, right?

Of course, their standard of living
won't be the same anymore, but...

I'm not saying that to bother anyone.

One has to be realistic.

the present.

A pillow he has embroidered himself.

And who is it for?

Daddy.

I do hope it's all right if the children
call their father Daddy here.

If you prefer, they can call him him or
simply

the man.

Whatever.

Whatever.

It must be hard when you've got
everything to know what to say.

To be honest, my first thought was
never, ever to let either of you see the

children. But then I changed my mind.

I thought it only right that their
father be confronted by the little

whose lives he has destroyed.

Give Daddy your present.

It's a car a little dear has
embroidered.

I'm aware that not everyone can see it,
but with the heart one can see much,

however unimportant that information may
be to you.

Would it be all right if I show the
children the whoring bed?

After all, they also had a stake in this
event.

You need to see it.

Right? It could be daddy's favorite
place.

Come on, boys.

Oh.

So this is where it all happened.

You should try to memorize this room.

Especially the bed.

It'll stand you in good stead later in
therapy.

Here I sit, rambling on about therapy
without a thought of what it might cost.

I do hope you don't think we're here to
beg.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm being silly. Mommy's being silly.

Let's have a cup of tea.

The children's father likes two lumps of
sugar in his tea.

I'll get it. No, no, no, please, please,
please.

Hello. Hello.

Yes.

Oh, how nice.

Lovely. Boys, come here.

It might be interesting.

My son.

Yes. Yes. Hello, hello.

Look him in the eye.

I'm Andy. Hello.

Friend of Joe's, then?

Yeah. You know each other long?

Um... Not that long, no. Not terribly
long?

No.

It's all so exotic.

So broad -minded.

On that point, I failed.

No doubt about it.

Now is the time to be alert and ask all
the questions your heart's desire.

Because I hope that you shall never have
to encounter such people or be in

such a situation ever again.

Well, you don't have any questions?

No?

Well, I'll start, shall I?

Approximately how many lives do you
think she has time to destroy in one

Five?

Fifty?

Or several hundreds?

I admit the latter sounds improbable,
but where there's a will, there's a way.

It's just a big misunderstanding.

Boys, I don't love you, Father.

You're just saying that to make us feel
better. I'm sure you understand that.

Because if it were a joke, I mean, if
this were really a joke, then it would

a joke so cruel.

No one can be that cruel.

They say that even the Huns on their
rampage were rather unreserved but to

up a family.

To destroy a mesh of feelings woven over
20 years is no joke.

Well, if three is the crowd, then seven
must be a bit of a challenge for the

pretty miss.

I must say, I have a hard time picturing
her enjoying loneliness.

I think we better grab the channel to
get away before things become grotesque.

No,

no, no.

You wouldn't want to give your father a
guilty conscience now, would you?

So how did this episode affect your
life?

Not at all.

Not at all?

No.

You can't make an omelette without
breaking a few eggs.

Oh, that's true.

Some people blame the addict.

Other people...

Feel sorry for the addict.

But I was an addict out of lust, not out
of need.

You would say that, wouldn't you?

And lust that led to destruction around
me, everywhere I went.

Well, addiction sometimes leads to an
absence of empathy.

You can't fight a lion and blow the
noses of your children at the same time.

For me, nymphomaniac was callousness.

You're very stubborn.

But what about yourself?

How did you feel during all this?

Did you feel good?

Or did you feel bad?

It's funny because when I think about my
life as a whole, I can only say that I

felt good.

But when I try and remember a specific
episode, I'd say that just then I felt

rather bad.

In what way?

Mrs H was right about the loneliness.

I'd be lying if I said it. hadn't been
my constant companion.

So you were with all these men, and you
still felt alone.

I didn't want to tell you about it.

But you've led me into a trap.

It was a certain feeling.

When I was seven, I had to have an
operation.

Nothing serious, but it did require
anesthesia.

I had already been premedicated and was
feeling all right.

But when I looked into the room where
the doctors and nurses were preparing

the operation, it was as if I had to
pass through an impenetrable gate

all by myself.

It wasn't just that I missed my mum.

I don't think I missed my dad, even
though he was a nice one.

It was as if I was completely alone in
the universe.

as if my whole body was filled with
loneliness and tears.

And I'm still not allowed to feel sorry
for you.

Shall we go?

What are you reading?

I'm not reading, really. I'm just
reacquainting myself with Edgar Allan

I don't know him.

Well, he was a very anxiety -ridden man.

He died in the most fearful way you can
imagine, in something called delirium

tremor.

It occurs when a long -time abuse of
alcohol is followed by a sudden

And your body goes into some kind of
hypersensitive shock.

You can see the most horrifying
hallucinations of rats and snakes and

cockroaches coming out of the floor and
worms slithering in the walls.

the entire nervous system is on high
alert and you have a constant panic and

paranoia and then the circulatory system
fails

but the panic and horror remains until
the moment of death

During the whole of a dull, dark, and
soundless day in the autumn of the year,

when the clouds hung oppressively low in
the heavens, I had been passing alone

on horseback through a singularly dreary
tract of country, and at length found

myself, as the shades of the evening
drew on, within view of the melancholy

house of Usher.

I love her.

How are you?

What with mom?

She's not coming.

You want not to fight with her.

You know Kay's for your hospitals.

and I say goodbye at home.

I don't want to hear it at all.

I can't accept that.

You'll have to.

She's a cowardly stupid bitch.

No, she's not.

Yes. No, she's not.

Yes. No, she's not. Yes, she is. No,
she's not. You've never understood that.

You know I'm your friend.

I've seen some men die.

There's that epic curious quote about
not fearing death.

I also know all the drugs the doctors
have to offer.

So, no.

I am not... I am not afraid.

Beautiful girl.

Beautiful dance.

Hello,

Doctor. Hello, Doctor.

This is my daughter, Jill.

Hey, Joe. Hi.

Did you need anything?

Well, as I've said, I decided to be an
exemplary patient, completely subjecting

myself to dark disorders.

Are you in pain?

I don't think so, no.

We're going to give you a splash all the
same.

They're giving you too much manatees.

It's okay. It's okay. It's okay.

Okay.

Don't worry. I'm going to get the
doctor. Don't worry.

be exhausted.

I think you should go home and get some
rest.

No.

Someone needs to be here.

Perhaps you could share with some other
family members.

Daddy, I'm going to get the doctor.

I'm going to get you back to bed.

Excuse me.

My dad is very unwell.

So, I'll go have a look.

Maybe you could give him some morphine.

There's something I'd like to explain.

I can certainly give him more morphine,
but most likely it won't make much

difference.

Most deaths, fortunately, are...
Uneventful.

As long as you medicate the patients to
keep them free of fear and pain.

In a few cases, the process of dying
causes brain damage, which triggers

what we call delirium.

That's not something we can soften with
morphine.

Unfortunately...

Would you say a little walk?

I'll stay with your father in the
meantime.

You'll stay?

You'll stay here? Yes.

Where did you find them?

They were in the park.

Truly is the most beautiful tree in the
forest.

How do you recognize it in winter?

I can't remember.

The ash tree was great.

It made all the other trees in the
forest jealous.

Because it was... It was the most
beautiful tree in the forest.

And the strongest wood.

It could be used for anything.

It was the world tree in Norse
mythology.

He couldn't say anything bad about it.

Then one of the other trees saw the ash
tree with its

black buds.

They all started laughing.

The trees had its fingers in the ashes.

Daddy!

Daddy,

what's wrong? Daddy, what's wrong?

It's alright.

We

have

to fix it.

What are you doing?

Joe! What are you doing to me?

No worries.

Ready?

When he died, I had no feelings left.

Well, that's certainly understandable.

No, I don't know what happened to me.

It was very shameful.

Shameful?

I don't understand.

I lubricated.

I know you like to present yourself in a
negative way and that you have this

kind of dark bias that you're worse than
everyone else.

But this story doesn't add to that
belief.

It's extremely common to react sexually
in a crisis.

It may be shameful to you, but in
literature there's many worse examples.

But I did inherit my father's caliper.

I found it so beautiful and worn by his
youth.

What else did you receive?

I didn't have the strength to argue with
my mother, so I wrote off any further

part of my inheritance.

Really?

Well, that's a dramatic gesture.

You listen to music, I see.

Yes.

I like it a lot.

Shall I find a tape?

No, if there's a tape already in the
machine, I'd like to hear that.

It's something I've been listening to a
lot lately.

That is not an entirely complete
recording, unfortunately.

What is that?

It's Bach.

From his little organ book.

The theme is originally a hen.

Bach rearranged it and embellished it a
little.

He was the master of polyphony, if you
know what that is.

No. Yes, another thing I don't know.

Polyphony is from the Middle Ages. It's
an entirely European phenomenon.

It's distinguished by the idea that
every voice is its own melody,

but together in harmony.

Our forerunner, Palestrina, he wrote
many works for several choirs at the

time, wallowing in polyphony.

affected the melodic expression and the
harmony.

I also mixed up with some rather
incomprehensible mystique regarding

most likely based on the Fibonacci
sequence.

You know, the one that starts with a
zero and then comes the one.

The sequence is created by adding the
previous numbers to create the new ones.

So 0 plus 1 makes 1, and 1 plus 1 makes
2, and 2 plus 1 makes 3, and 3 plus 2

makes 5, and 5 plus 3 makes 8, and 8
plus 5 makes 13.

The sequence has an interesting
connection to Pythagoras' theorem and

section.

It was all about finding a divine
methodology in art and architecture.

A bit like the way tritone.

which was played on the piano in your
little club was supposed to be a satanic

interval.

The sum of the numeric values
represented in Bach's name is 14, a

often used in his compositions.

The clever thing about Bach's name is
that the numeric value of the individual

letters are all Fibonacci numbers.

This piece has three voices.

A bass voice,

The second voice played with the left
hand.

The first voice played with the right
hand.

That is called Cantus firmus or Cantus
firmus.

And together, these three voices create
the polyphony.

Well, if I should compare this with my
story, it's reminiscent of a quality of

nymphomania, which is normally ignored
but nonetheless essential, and namely

relationship between the various
intercourses.

That's interesting.

They create a completeness.

As, for example, the handshake.

which for all people is the sum of all
the different handshakes that together

form our view of what a handshake is.

The good, the bad handshake, the firm,
the limp.

Normally, an infomaniac is seen as
someone who can't get enough

and therefore has sex with many
different people. Well, that, of course,

true, but if I'm to be honest...

I see it precisely as the sum of all
these different sexual experiences.

So in that way, I have only one lover.

Since the music has three voices, I will
limit myself to talking about three

lovers.

The bass is easy.

That's F.

F had a red car that he'd bought used.

As I was having sex with seven or eight
men every night at the time, scheduling

was tricky, and they all had to have
precise appointments.

F was a good man.

If he was scheduled for ten o 'clock, he
always showed up around nine and parked

down in the street.

I always smiled when I saw him.

Often I put pity on him and gave him a
cup of coffee while I was finishing with

the one before.

It's hard to say why I'm choosing to
talk about F, but he was reassuring, and

knew exactly what I wanted when we had
sex.

No, I'd go even further and say that
there was a kind of telepathy going on

we had sex.

Without words, He knew exactly what I
wanted, where he should touch me, and

he should do.

The most sacred goal for F was my
orgasm.

What? And then this one's answered in
the same voice.

And granted him privileges none of the
others received.

F was the base voice, monotone,
predictable and ritualistic, no doubt

it, but also the foundation that is so
important, even if on its own it

doesn't mean much.

G was quite different.

The only one I had to and wanted to wait
for.

When he finally turned up and I opened
the door, he didn't immediately enter.

The way a cat doesn't when you let it
in.

As if once the door is open, it has all
the time in the world.

But he was more than a cat. He was like
some kind of jaguar or leopard.

He moved like them, which turned me on
no end.

When he laid down on my bed,

it was clear to me that I should
approach him and not the other way

And when I did touch him, it was with
some hesitation, as his reactions were

unpredictable.

He was in charge.

That's the way it was.

Despite my success in managing the
complicated logistics involved in

up to ten daily sexual satisfactions,
while also having a full -time job, I

was still prone to a certain sadness, so
when my busy life allowed a few breaks,

I used them to take my walks.

These repeated walks became a kind of
metaphor for my life, monotonous and

pointless.

Precisely like the movements of a caged
animal.

Basically, we're all waiting for
permission to die.

No, no, no.

There are some completely unrealistic
coincidences in your story about Jerome.

First, by chance, he hires you as an
assistant.

And then you take a walk in a forest
that is littered with photographs of

And not only that, he's present.

And then, like a god, pulls you up to
him through the clouds.

So what?

That's the way the story goes.

And I'm the one telling it. And I know
what happened.

Do you want to hear this or not?

Goodness gracious.

What a strange way to meet.

It's a very strange way.

Jerome was there because he just had a
fight with his wife, who in anger tore

the photograph they just had developed
from their travels.

Oh, I don't know if I can believe this.
Which way do you think you'd get the

most out of my story?

By believing in it or by not believing
in it?

You're right.

You might have a point with all this.

The third voice, the secret ingredient.

Hmm.

I can't feel anything.

I can't feel anything.

If you think I'm doing well, your hand

feeds my blood.

Thank you for watching.

Thank you

for

watching.

Two names, two daughters, a candle, two
girls, a man.

Thank you.

Thank you.