Original subtitles

How come I never see you write anything down, Jack?

Not for business.

Not for personal stuff.

Nothing.

Never thought about it.

Never needed to.

So what you're saying is that you have a photographic memory?

Could be.

Everything that ever happened to you.

Every detail.

Your life growing up, Jack.

Tell me about it.

I want to know every detail.

I like boxing gyms and the filled one in my pocket.

I like coming to this country knowing I could be anything I wanted to be. I like

reading the real estate ads in the Times. I like buying new clothes and

my shoes shined.

I like being alone.

Being alone.

And waking up alone.

Until?

Until I started talking to myself a lot at night in my big empty house.

Until?

Until I couldn't taste the food I was eating anymore.

Until I couldn't sleep with one more woman I didn't give a shit about.

Until... Until... I

saw you in Matthew's shoulder that day.

You are so full of shit, Jack.

I like watching you move.

I like the chiller you make.

your eyes, the music you listen to, your spirit.

I do, really.

I like your energy, your dreams, your laughter, your rage.

I like everything about you.

My rage?

Your rage, yeah.

Right below the surface, ready to explode.

Good, clean, cherubic rage.

I don't have any rage.

It's the question of when it comes out and what form it takes.

It's what drives us.

Really?

Really.

I wish I could protect you from my past.

But I can't.

Fuck the past.

I hate to think that I was out of control even then, but I was.

I knew exactly what I was getting myself into, marrying Jack.

A man is dangerous.

Although I certainly didn't want to admit it at the time.

Shit, how could I?

I was in love.

Or was it less?

Had I fallen in love with Jack or was it just that

magnificent dick of his?