Original subtitles

I was always bored.

Having done everything to remedy this boredom,

maybe trying to describe it will help me get out of it.

Was it the University I had just left

and that I only regretted, it is true, in my dreams,

or the lack of work that I did not seek to fill

that caused it, I don't know.

The first weeks, not knowing how to spend my evenings,

I was reduced to frequenting the prostitutes you see along the roads.

One day, however, I wanted to try my luck

with a woman whose gentleness attracted me.

Post-war writers, and not only post-war,

like Sartre or Camus in France,

faced the problems linked to their reality,

the French reality and that of their time,

by trying to give it meaning, political significance.

Do you understand?

Because literature cannot be limited to empty words,

to meager linguistic experiments

or other...experiments, particularly structural.

It's important, but...

in my opinion, this is not enough.

The writer today must try to be...

a mediator between reality and the reader

who reads the book and who must therefore be enriched...

The obstinacy with which I avoided getting to the point

caused me to fail very quickly.

Then I fell into indifference and ended up not thinking about it anymore.

Then it was no longer the evenings where I wandered aimlessly,

but rather the fact that I had very little money,

and that I had to find some during the days.

One day, very close to my house, I was called by a boy

whom I was sure I had seen once,

I don't know where anymore.

Do you have a cigarette, my friend?

Thanks.

- The weather today is good. - Well, not so much.

- What are you doing? - Nothing.

In life, I mean.

I work, but today I have nothing to do.

- Where do you live? - Over there.

- Squidward! - Hey, what are you doing here?

- Nothing, I was there. - Who is it?

A guy. We were discussing.

So, what's new?

So?

I left without being able to ask him if it was him,

or even start a conversation, even though I really wanted to.

All my friends worked,

and with their mistresses, seemed happy, without desires.

I decided, although I had no interest in anything,

to come out of my torpor.

The same Easter day, I was going to find a friend who was an actress,

and whose fantasy seduced me.

She willingly lent me money because it always surprised her when it was returned,

and confirmed her in her fits of optimism.

Hi!

- How are you doing? - Well, and you?

I'm tired.

I'm exhausted!

- Do you like this wardrobe? - Yes.

I bought it last night at the flea market, at 3am.

Why at 3am?

I went to a party with friends, we had a bit to drink...

Suddenly, we decided to go to the flea market.

- Was it a whim? - No, I liked it.

It is funny and it has a particularity.

We can hide things behind the mirror.

So I bought it. But they didn't deliver.

We had to drag it here ourselves.

Besides, it was raining. Look at the state of my hair.

- It is very old. - Yes, they say we can repair it.

When I have money, I will have it restored.

It's very heavy, imagine getting it up to the 5th floor!

We went to bed at 6 a.m., I had to get up at 8 a.m...

- Were there many of you? - No, there were two of us.

The other two left with the excuse that it was late.

They stood us at the foot of the stairs.

I pushed from the bottom, the other pulled from the top, but...

She absolutely wanted to take me to see the pope,

seriously claiming that we only ever saw his understudy.

Two months later, my family's income having diminished,

I was forced to accept a job as a translator

which I really liked at first.

This is where I met the woman who in a few days will be my wife.

The first time I don't remember noticing her,

and I barely caught her attention.

Sorry, but it's the other desk.

- If you need anything, call. - Thanks.

She never left the duties assigned by her work,

and the dialogue we exchanged in the first weeks,

was composed of informations, transmissions of orders,

and sometimes advices whose only pleasure laid in her foreign accent.

I waited a long time before thinking seriously about her,

when the idea of ​​permanently linking this woman to my work

gave me a glimpse of possible happiness.

Having noticed that every Friday the director left the office around 6 p.m.,

I speculated about the fact that we were left alone.

- Can I ask you for some paper? - Pardon?

- Paper. - Yes, right away.

Having assured myself of this, although a little annoyed at using such a crude thing,

I invited her to the cinema that same evening with the intention of attacking.

Thanks.

Do you want to go to the movies tonight?

We play “Detective Story”, it’s a good thriller.

No, I can't.

She then claimed that she was engaged and couldn't go out with me.

I'm engaged, I can't do it any night.

- Are you getting married? - Yes.

When?

Soon.

In the following days, the memory of this refusal took away all hope from me.

I don't know yet what made her change.

Had she felt my presence behind this door from which I had observed her,

and did she feel a new pleasure from it,

or had the indifference I showed after my failure

woken her up.

- Hello, my dear! - Hello, Isabelle.

I lost my key, look in my pocket. I can't find it anymore.

Are you ready?

Hi!

I'll take a look. I'll be there right away.

Do you know where we're going for dinner?

As usual!

It's always me who decides. That's enough, I'm fed up.

Did you find it?

Wait!

- Have you seen Giorgio? - Yes, he's over there.

I didn't find it. Where are we going?

Here you are. Let's go...