All language subtitles for Perdrix

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Do you know that feeling?

When you meet someone
who instantly stirs you,

someone whose company
you inexplicably crave?

Yes.

True love
is that very feeling.

Only all the time.

True love is...

unpredictable.

It's enchanting,

it's accidental.

Above all,

it provides an immediate answer

to the real question.

So what's the question?

Is the life you're living

truly yours?

Love,

true love,

just takes care of that.

It sets you squarely in the now.

Like a slap.

Thanks for calling.

Thank you all.

You're the best audience in the world.

You're listening to Love Is Real.

THE BARE NECESSITY

9/18/2018 - Figuring out where I am.

Thorny - but I prefer brambles.

Nice day.

It is.

No rain since when?

A while.
Three weeks, maybe.

About.

How are you?

I'm great.

You, boss?

Great.

Walking at last
As others sleep

Seeing colors
Seeing shapes

Cities are cities
Shrouded by night

Filled with animals
Pacing noiselessly

On your heels
You're dogged by fear

Catch up on other people's lives
In the day's...

last gleam

Pull the sheet over your eyes

- Hi, Captain.
- Sébastien.

What's up, Michel?

There's a tank
in front of the station.

Not to worry.

Historical reenactment, in 2 days.
It's under control.

It's in the way.

The "soldiers" are off buying bread,
we'll move it tomorrow.

What are you doing now?

I'm thinking.

You can't think
and park a tank?

And there's a girl
in your office.

Have a seat.

Freedom is the recognition
of necessity.

Do you agree?

Yes. Much as anyone.

Why were all your belongings
in your car?

I'm migrating.

- Moving house?
- I change towns.

Countries, sometimes.

I see.

I doubt that.

The girl who stole your car
was totally naked?

- You don't believe me?
- I do.

There's an outburst
of revolutionary nudism in the area.

Excuse me?

Small radical group.

Advocating primal insurrection
in the nude.

Misunderstandings ensue.

They steal cars?

They cull.

Their word.
They strip non-essentials.

They nab a car,
or some passerby,

and rip their clothes off.

I know, it's peculiar.

So the theft happened right here?

Yes?

What now?

Now, you let me get to work.

Namely?

There's a procedure.

Which one?

Long to describe.

Make three calls and wait,
is that it?

Yes, first I collect information,

study our files, prior carjackings,

cross-reference leads to the nudists,

do my job.

Does it work?

Almost never.

All the more reason
to dig our heels.

Sign here.

This conversation isn't over.

Happy birthday, Dad.

How old would he be?

Sixty-four.

Sixty-eight.

Pierrot,

deliver this for me.

Add a personal note.

Is it Daniel?

No. New guy.

HOW TO DECEIVE THE ERA?

Good evening.

I canvassed half the town,
nobody's seen my car.

Other half tomorrow.
It's late, nobody'll talk.

I'm hungry. Smells good.

You cooking?
I'll set the table.

Who gave you my address?

Does the couch open up?

You live alone
in this big house?

My mother Thérèse,
my brother Juju, his daughter Marion.

Juliette Webb.

Hi.

How did he die?

Like that.

Suddenly.

Still have your parents?

Nope. No way.

They're alive.

Maybe.
I wouldn't know.

Funny story.

When I was 16, I told them...

I seldom saw them,
we argued a lot.

I stayed with friends.
So I said I wanted to be emancipated.

It applied to extreme cases,
I saw myself as one.

I wanted them to sign
on the fact

that we were no longer liable
for each other.

I wasn't sure I wanted that,
but I still asked.

Just to see.

I was provoking them, certainly.

They accepted.

They said yes.

They didn't question it.
My parents and I signed,

and boom, I was no longer their child.
They were no longer my parents.

Haven't seen them since.
They split up, hooked up again...

Out of spite, probably.

People are unimaginative in life.

Wouldn't you say?

But you look like a great family.

It takes guts

to live together all these years...

I couldn't. It'd be hell.

Where's your mom?

She left.

There you go.

Give it a rest.

If you want advice
about emancipation,

we can talk.

You about done?

You're not completely likable.

Get to bed.

Want some more?

No, thanks.

I'm good.
Dessert, though?

Sure.

Anything.

Yoghurt.

Plain.

Plain, ok.

You're a good dishwasher.

Thank you.

I'll take it as a compliment.

You always do them?

Often.

So you actually like it?

So-so.

Sure.
It's your little moment.

It was.

This is Gué Mozot, free radio
of the Vosges mountains.

Next, Thérèse Perdrix,

with Love Is Real.

Shit, it's starting.

Where's Juju?

It's his shift.

What?

My mother does a broadcast,

you know,

a radio talk show.

Nobody calls anymore,
so we take turns.

You must realize
that the earthworm

is sexually gay,

but mates heterosexually.

Might not include that.

They're hermaphroditic,
obviously.

Their testicles, their gonads,

are on the top of their heads,

with their vagina.

Therefore...

Case in point,

I'll dish them
a gnarly dose of Darwin...

And then...

True love is

unpredictable, and ruthless.

You feel its bite,

forever.
You understand?

The problem
with your passion thing,

is that it's despotic.

Closed off.
Putrid. Suffocating.

No, it's not as...

You're pushing an ideology.

Let me be specific...

Love is an invasion, a colonization.
Consented, at best.

We love enslavement.
Beyond that...

You exaggerate.

Not by much.

And you know it.

Don't pretend otherwise.

So you oppose
the very idea of love?

I do.

Why should it
encompass everything?

May I ask a question?

Sure, Thérèse.

Have you ever been in love?

No, Thérèse.

I'd rather die.

Why don't you join him
in the grave?

Your great dead love?

Because of him?

No.

Not particularly.

Are there many?

As many as possible.

I was robbed
of the man I loved,

so I decided
to have them all.

You have to fight back.

You've given up.

I understand.

What about you?

Are you OK?

Of course.

Are you OK?

Of course.

What's your favorite book?

I don't know.

I grew up with Robinson Crusoe.

You're an adventurer.

Did you doubt that?

No.

Only the alienated
dream of adventure.

I was a kid...

Your dream was to live alone
on an island?

Why not?

Total solitude,
therefore total freedom.

That should speak to you.

You confuse solitude
and loneliness.

Big difference.

I read poetry as a teenager.

German romantics.

I liked Novalis.

I'd memorize his poems.

Could you recite one?

I've forgotten now.

Liar.

Do it, I'm un-flirtable.

Is that your diary?

It's a report card to myself.

If I'm not prying,
what do you write?

My days.

All of them?

I've recorded them
since I was little.

Why?

To not forget, or ignore, myself.

To kill time.
It's the one simple thing in my life.

And the others?

In my car.

I journey above this world

And each pain I must endure...

HYMNS TO THE NIGHT

And each pain I must suffer

Will grow into a fount of joy.

A few moments yet,

I'll be free
Nestled in the bosom of Love

I feel Death's rejuvenating flow

Turning my blood
To balsam and ether...

Do you have to piss in my shower?

Zero eco-points for you.

Your lack of concern is disappointing.

Just avoid my leg.

I do what I can.

Thanks for everything,
Wacko family!

Did she leave?

Good riddance.

The free man bears no burden,
not even honor.

How do you destroy
the cloud sumo?

The sumo warrior,
in the clouds?

You got the magic wheelbarrow?

Yeah.

Press Ctrl-Shift-Right, 3 times.

Then 3 Lefts, 2 Down, 2 Up,

*, Num Lock, F2,

SPR-Ctrl, Num Lock,

***, 2 Right,

B-B, 8-2.

Only very fast.

I keep doing that.

Captain.

Screwdriver.

My pants!

This morning's traffic write-ups.

And the tank?

We'll park it after lunch.

I love you, so much.
Madly, in spite of it all.

It's silly,
but all love letters are.

Or else,
they wouldn't be love letters.

I hide my tears daily
at our ruined chance.

Happy birthday, dear ghost.
Thérèse.

PS: the kids send love.

There you go.

Mom, where's my goddamn wetsuit?

Up yours.

Thanks.
You're like a mother to me.

There.

Earthworms feed

on plant waste, carrion,

even their own feces.

Mostly hermaphroditic,

male and female.

And to put it mildly,
they inspire

mixed feelings
among their human cousins.

Though they are

the largest animal biomass
outside of the oceans.

20 times that of humankind.

They play, in our ecosystem,

a fundamental role.

Quick question.

How many of you
want to become lumbriciologists?

For the record,

that's a biologist
specializing in earthworms.

Like me.

Think I enjoy wasting my time
on cynical brats?

What are your goals?
For yourselves?

And for others, especially?

You little shits.

Who do you think you are?

I don't care.
In 50 years, I'm gone.

But you'll be copping it.

You'll see.

The ecosystem will set you straight.

Let's hear it for Marion's dad.

I won't reciprocate.

Instagram fuckwits.

Snapchatting assholes.

Thanks for coming,
but you were late, and disruptive.

You told me
to pick Marion up.

You did.

No, I can take her.

I really don't mind.

I said, no need.

Now I'm here...

Whose goddamn daughter is she?

- What's your problem?
- What's yours?

Why the long face, bro?
Lost your girl?

Quit it.

You wanted comfort from me?

Shut up.

Better this way.

I don't know.

She wouldn't stay for your sake.

That kind of girl...

And it's not the first time
you get dumped.

I wasn't dumped.

Fine.
Choose your own reality.

If you're on Marion,
I'll get back to work.

Go, brother. Duty calls.

Great presentation, by the way.

Puppet?

Don't call me that!

What's up tomorrow?

Tomorrow's Friday.

You helping with my expedition?
Let's do it.

I have school.

Just say no.
Don't look for excuses.

I'll take you home.

Excuse me.

Thanks again. You were great.

Looking for Marion?

Hi, Cédric.

She sticks to the last row,
middle seat.

I wanted to ask you...

Would you be looking
for a research assistant?

You want to get close
to my daughter?

You interested in her?

My heart belongs to science.
And bodybuilding.

What the fuck?

What are you,
the new local enforcer?

You almost killed him!

- If I'd wanted to...
- Enough!

Shut up, once and for all!

How delusional can you get!

I think you're better than that.

You don't know me.

Will you shut the fuck up?

You ever keep quiet?

Give everyone a break!

You mad at me?

I'm not.
You scared me, that's all.

Sorry.

Would you uncuff me?

No way.

Don't be such a cop.
You're better than that.

- Come on.
- I said no.

You enjoy handcuffing
half-naked girls?

Does that get you hard?

So where are your pants?

Burned 'em.

To placate the nudist.

The prick was reading
my notebook.

I acted like a convert,
so he'd lead me to them.

I get it.
Not completely stupid.

You still can't do this stuff.

It's dangerous,

and for you too.

Leave it to me.

It's what I do. Professionally.

Pascal!

Where now?

Right?

Dunno, Serge.

You talked to Town Hall.

We're running in circles!

Want to drive the tank?

Sorry.

I'm just hungry.

Want a kiwi?

You kept some?

Here's the last one.

74th Anniversary Reenactment
WW II - Battle of Béroc

We'll close off

the access road,
for the tanks and Jeeps.

Great.

What about the Wehrmacht?

Those who play the German army.

The Wehrmacht.

You mean there will be Nazis?

No, I mean just that:
The Wehrmacht.

Same thing.

Not really.

Who'll be playing the Nazis?

A fellow historical reenactment society.

Wonderful people. We work together.

They play the Germans, or we do.

We rotate.

What?

I'm trying to picture you
as a Nazi.

That'll be quite enough.

What's it like?

Was there anything else,
Lieutenant?

Yes. Your Nazis...

They're not my Nazis.

...they only dress on the site?

Meaning?

Do we escort a Nazi convoy,
is my question.

It's happened before, without trouble.

I'm asking for an itinerary,

so we don't run into each other.

What's this about, Smicer?

The nudist.

He won't talk to a Dresser.

And the socks?

Talked him down.

Anything on the car?

He doesn't know, never saw it,

he found the notebook
in the woods.

Is that all?

He also says,

we should all strip,

and reconnect to our own frailty.

That we'll feel invincible,

renounce all hostility,

and outward nudity
brings inside nudity,

i.e., world peace.

Is it working?

No evidence yet.

I'd need a longer test period.

On your own time, perhaps.

He wants to press charges
against the girl.

What?

He claims she shot at him.

I fired the gun.

He says otherwise.

That she stole your weapon.

I fired the shots.

I've never seen you
discharge your weapon.

It was a first.

I got you this.

That's so my style.

Not in this life.

You know
you can't keep me like this?

Now you want me to play
by the rules?

Where's my notebook?

Evidence box.

You'll get it later.

Did you read it?

No.

Which number?

28.

Late teenage years.

Off the record,

where did you learn marksmanship?

Find my notebooks
and I'll tell you.

And clean your gun,
it's all gunked up.

Don't go there.

You never use it?

So why did you enter the force?

A passion for due process.

So you'd like to use it,
but you don't dare?

Ever forget who you are?
Answer without thinking.

Enough of that.

Set me free,
I'll leave you alone.

If you didn't record your life,

you wouldn't risk losing it.

Shithead.

You often get called a shithead?

Think you are one?

Is that what others think?

Who are your demons?

Ever get caught rubbing yourself?

Rubbing your cock.

If I could grant you any wish,

anything at all, no restrictions.

What'd it be?

I'd wish

you would drop the act.

I don't really believe you.

You don't want me to stop.

It's a good act. I'd know.

But if it is your wish,
it's pretty lame.

Oh, you don't know
how to make a wish.

That's a pretty serious condition.

You'll teach me.

Why no wife or kids?
Is that a choice?

I take care of my mother,
my brother, his daughter,

this precinct, the town,

there's no time for a family.

Or even friends.

None of that is essential,
you know.

It's doable. I'm not unhappy.

Sure, I live vicariously,

but I don't feel lonely.

And I'm not a virgin,
before you ask.

I date girls, it doesn't last.

That's how it is, for now.

My life isn't very interesting.
Not at all.

But I'm fine.
Everything's fine!

Ask anyone here.

Frustrated.

What?

A one-word description
for the Captain.

Frustrated.

Michel, you can't say that.
I'm the face of joy.

You're joyfully frustrated.

Don't get me wrong,
I meant it in a good way.

Frustrated in a good way?

I'd say 'stumped'.

It's more like an impediment,
a block.

He's uncommonly nice.

Try 'displeased'.

Unpleasantly, at times.

Constrained.
By what, is unclear.

As if some shock
left him thunderstruck.

Forever disillusioned.

I said "frustrated in a good way",
for a reason.

Because in his frustration,

there is a form of ambition.

High standards, that's why.

He has expectations in life.

It's desire.

This is nonsense!

Come on.
For once we're talking in here...

A mountain of desire, a volcano.

Slow flowing lava,
scorching everything it touches.

Everything it kisses.

Exactly.

His high regard for existence

fuels his frustration.

In fact...

There's an abyss,

between what he hopes for,

what he feels he deserves,

and the ever-disappointing reality

of his routine.

My dad said "Routine is the one thing
that cannot disappoint".

The Captain's case
is subtler than that.

Because he has principles,
and integrity.

Even ethics.

That's it, exactly.

He's a moralist.

Don't worry.
You're a good man.

Are you sulking?

You can cry, if you want.

I just hope it's not my fault.

Sorry about the gun.

Don't push it.

Found your tongue again.

Go on, then.

Go hunting nudists
in the woods, alone.

You'll find your car eventually.

I don't care.

I'm good.

I didn't come to you.

Wanna try something?

We can do something.

Is that a yes?

OK. I'll set it up.

You've reached the Perdrix house.
Leave a message.

It's me.

Nobody there?

Just to say I'm not coming home.

Not immediately, I mean.

Who are you calling?

My home.

Why?

Just checking in.
Letting them know.

It's fine.
They're grown-ups.

I can still check on them.

I'm not as heartless as you.

So it's your farewell?

I'm hungry.

What's for dinner?

I don't know.

Free-for-all night.

Meaning what?

To each their own,

as they like.

You think Pierrot'll be back?

Don't ask stupid questions.

With Juliette?

Cut the crap.
You're going nowhere.

We'll see.

There's nothing to see.

Speak for yourself.

What now?

I didn't say anything.

You didn't.

That's it.

You never do.

BOARDING SCHOOL
APPLICATION

Pull the sheet over your eyes
Enter the dream

Catch up on other people's lives

In the day's last gleam

Seeing colors
Seeing shapes

Walking at last
As others sleep

Seeing colors
Seeing shapes

Cities are cities
Shrouded by night

Filled with animals
Pacing noiselessly

On your heels
Dogged by fear

On your heels

Is fear

I see people compromise,
with reality, with the law.

Not my problem.
But if we did that,

it's just not on.

We'd be instantly

labeled as crooks.

No wiggle space.
There's no space!

It's a responsibility.
Ours.

Damien never understood that.

He left,
like all the others before him.

Did I tell you Damien left me?

I didn't tell anyone.

Not that I ever would.

Who cares.

As my mother says,

love is giving what you don't have
to someone who doesn't want it.

Except for me, it's every day
I grapple with this huge emptiness.

You know, Captain...

You're the person
I see the most of.

You get to tell me
if I'm real or not.

You are real, Michel.

Thank you.

Maybe that's what failure feels like.

It's simple, soft, cozy.

Like...

an expectation, ever deferred.

You can relate to that.

I really want to kiss you.

Don't start that again.

I won't, though.

I appreciate it.

Best to stay friends?

We're friends?

Sure.

Doubtless.

I'm gonna dance.
You want to?

Not my thing.

I understand.

What?

What what?

Nothing.

Same, nothing.

With you, I'll do what I want

With you, I'll do what I want

And if you have my heart,
that won't scare me off

And if you have my body,
you're not really wrong

Why are you here?

We came for you.

Are you OK, my son?

Fine.

Let's go.

You're drunk.

I don't give a shit
about being a good man.

I don't care. Get it?

Yes you do.

You're ranting.

You're just jealous.

What of?

Your made-up romance
with that poor thing?

Get out.

Back to your man-cave.

Traitor.

She is dangerous.

Who for?

If you leave us,
I won't forgive you.

You are my demons.

My darling demons.

What would I be without you?

That's the real question.

What would I be?

Thanks, Mom.

What do we do?

Anything you want.

I'll grant you one wish.

Really?

Stand here.

Undress.

Nudists are like sharks.

Lured by the smell of blood,

and skin.

I'm cold.

Please!

Cut the baloney. You said 'anything'.

I journey above this world

And each pain I must suffer
Will grow into a fount of joy

A few moments yet

I'll be free

Nestled in the bosom of Love

I feel Death's rejuvenating flow

By day I bristle
With faith and courage

By night I bathe in holy fire.

Tell you what,
we'll get 'em at the source.

Follow me.

I'm with you.

What?

What are you doing?

Building a shelter.

For the night.

To protect us.
To be on the safe side.

I don't need your protection.

Let me believe you do.

It's nutritious.

Not very tasty.

I ate them all the time,

as a kid.

On forest trips with my dad,

and my brother,

we ate them.

Ever wonder
if you deserve to live?

What?

When you're an unwanted child,
it feels like

that's never settled.

You don't ask many questions.

Questions... about you?

People are curious, usually.

You find me lacking in curiosity?

No.

Are you offended?

No, it's the opposite.

OK.

You stay at arm's length.

I try to be elegant.

Good.

I'm tired now.

Take it as an opportunity, Michel.

A decisive break-up
is out-and-out giddiness.

Body and soul
caught in a storm,

and at the same time,

it's calm,

absolute calm.

Lightning

over complete stillness.

Pale,

and stupid.

Because deep down,

a dream prevails:

that disaster will strike.

That the loved one will vanish.

I dunno.
Why not just dump it all?

All what?

Everything.

Love,

family,

work, the Internet,

grocery vouchers,

the lot.

Emptying out your life.

To what end?

None.

That's the whole point.

No purpose, no excuse.

My own self.

Maybe serenity
comes to the self-centered.

Maybe.

You understand?

Of course.

You OK, Thérèse?

I'm fine, Michel.

You sound a bit strained.

I love you, I love you...

I loved you
beyond your wildest dreams.

Like I'd promised.

Every day,

absolutely, entirely.

I still love you now,
and likely tomorrow.

But I no longer love this life together.

So I'm leaving you.

I'm leaving you.

Suddenly, like you left me.

I'll never get over your death, but...

I won't deal with your absence.

Not going to bed?

I am.

Don't wait all night.

For who?

Pierrot.

I'm not waiting.

It's his life.

To each their own, now.

Good night, Mom.

Good night, son.

You're late.

You just got here.

You insisted on using your bike.

Puppet, wait!

You should park the bike.

Slows us down.

Why are you lugging it around?

So you can bolt,
first chance you get?

Like dinner guests
who keep their coat.

It's really impolite.

Will you quit sulking?

Be happy.
You're on a scientific expedition.

Get lost!

Come back!

Puppet!

Don't call me that!

You OK?

Busted my knee.

Call for help!

Call Pierrot!

Hold on!

Hold on, I'm on it!

Hold on.

Goddamn!

Cuddling on the battlefield, are we?

We come here
for a serious reenactment.

We don't need shitbrained tourists
to stuff it all up!

This isn't a frigging dating service!

Believe me, I'd know.

Hi Serge. How are you?

What's up, Xavier?

All good.

- We heard screams.
- I'm angry.

Pascal, you good?

- Haircut?
- Just the ends.

Fresh look.

Found this, is it yours?

You bet.

It was up there.

Hi, Captain.

Hi.

Did you get lost?

No, we're waiting for you.

We're up top.

I texted everyone.
Itinerary's changed.

This is our zone.

You haven't seen us.

Catch you later.

Keep on truckin'.

We're off.

- Is that a period gun?
- It is.

Did it kill many people?

I don't know. Maybe.

You don't mind being a killer?

It's just a reenactment.

It's meant to show children
what happened in history.

- But it's a real gun.
- It is.

Historical reenactments

are a great liberty
within great constraints.

Understand?

It's like soccer.

You materialize
your idea of the game.

But reality is a bitch,
so you never get there.

The best you can get
is a feeling,

an inkling
of how great it can be.

So you try again.

Playing fake war.

Faking is transcending.

The faker it is, the freer.

But I know who I am.
I'm not crazy.

I'm aware I'm just an island,

a goddamn utopia!

It's like life.

You gotta believe.

And act on it.

I forget...

It's like love.

Don't start that shit again.
It's irrelevant!

Lay low.

It'll get bloody.

Attack!

Tank in sight!

Death to the Krauts!

Forward!

"By age 39, Pierre Perdrix
expected nothing beyond

the life
of an honest rural captain.

He'd grown into the role
of sleepytown sheriff,

and substitute dad
to a deserted family.

He had no destiny,

and he accepted it.

He was resigned."

So what?

Am I wrong?

I'm 37, not 39.

I stand corrected.

That's right.

My life lies ahead.

I hope so.

At age 14, 28 or 57,

Juliette Webb didn't know

who she was,
nor where she lived.

She knew only how to disappear.

Fleeing one life for the next,

refusing to bond...

- A queen without distraction.
- Enough.

Alone in a crowd,

eluding despair by eluding those

unfortunate enough
to cross her path.

I can do it too.

Sorry.

I wrote that to...

I'm afraid we found your car.

Sorry.
That's the way it is.

There.

A good-sized worm
is 85% water.

The dry mass is 70% protein,

and 15% lipids,
full of Omega 3's.

Best diet there is.

Did you know they piss themselves
to stay hydrated?

It works.

If we feed on worms
and drink our piss,

we can hold out for days.

Somebody'll turn up.

Don't think.

You have to eat something.

There'll be a stick of gum somewhere.

Not that!

Our Lady of Perseverance?

You want a nun school?

They offer a Sport-Study program.

You should have told me.

Why don't you ever talk to me?

You never talk to me.

What do you want to hear?

I don't know.

There you go.

You could say you understand
why I want to leave.

Why do you?

I don't want to become like you.

I'm leaving,
but I'm not leaving you.

What do we do?

Is my wish finished?

No, it's not finite.

Then I wish to be alone.

Go home.

You OK?

I'm good.

Lucky twat.

I forgot to mention,
about your notebooks. An idea.

We could write them, all over again.
From memory.

Together. Get it?

- That's moronic.
- I knew you'd like it.

It'll take a while.

You'll have to remember,
and tell me.

That's it.

It'll be something for us.

Best to start over,
with a few notebooks.

Better than nothing.

You got the wrong girl.

I don't think so.

Your feelings leave me unmoved.

Liar.

I'd have no use for your kisses.

Liar.

Why me?

Why not?

Why?

Stop asking why,

or I'm out of your life.

Say it.

Because you're everything
I dreamed of,

but couldn't imagine.

What I feel for you...
I didn't know it existed.

It's beyond everything.

It saves everything.

I understand nothing.

I understand it all.

It's insane.

Marion!

You OK?

BOARDING SCHOOL APPLICATION

Hi.

You OK?

Fine.

And you?

All right.

What happened?

Nothing special.

And you?

Same.

Forgive me.

I stole your escape.

I won't come back.

I'll write.

Clearly, I am here

Have an adventure, son.
Happy birthday - Dad

Subtitles by Joël Savdié

Subtitling TITRAFILM

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