Original subtitles

Dear Red Shoes, Who'd have thought I'd send my personal diary to a complete

stranger?

But then it's so much easier to be honest with a stranger, isn't it?

And sometimes, a stranger can let you be honest with yourself.

Especially when it comes to relationships.

Relationships that last longer than they should.

Like me and my boyfriend, Jamie Griffith, the fashion photographer.

It just seemed that neither of us had the courage to end it.

I want you.

I want you.

I want to wake each morning and see the sunlight dancing on your face.

Bring me to your primitive hell and let me hand you your saving grace.

I want to play out all your fantasies, we'll do them one by one.

And then we'll lay exalted in the brilliance of the sun and I watch you.

You know I have some new models.

I need to see you tonight.

See a hundred girls a day.

Just be honest.

I want you to dine upon my flesh. I've set a table for you.

And if you still hunger for more, I'll heat up another stove or two.

And when the night time comes along, I'll wait.

She lost her place.

And no one knows where she is?

You think she's hiding under the table?

You're stupid or what?

Why don't you pick on someone on your own side?

Voila.

Thank you.

Oh, yes. Thank you.

Where have you been?

In the junk.

You have been sitting in my creation on the toilet all year.

I wasn't sitting on the toilet in your creation.

Just spinning over, vomiting up last night's lettuce.

Let's get it on.

Maybe this week.

Perhaps next week.

May I pray?

You are very beautiful.

But when the beauty is gone...

What will you do?

I want to carve

my name

The sunlight dancing on your face.

Bring me to your primitive hells. Let me hand you your saving grace.

I want to play out all your fantasies. We'll do them one by one.

And then we'll lay exhausted.

So who's this photographer?

Jamie Griffin.

He says I have the best skin he's ever seen.

I saw him at a Christmas party.

Oh yeah?

Yeah, he's kind of cute actually.

No kidding.

I would have slept with him even if he hadn't offered me that layout.

Are you talking about the one in British Vogue? Yeah. They're shooting it next

month in... In Morocco.

Yeah.

Were you doing it too?

No.

I wasn't.

So what happened?

Nothing. I just changed my mind.

Where to, senorita?

It's 644 East Morton from the village.

644 East Morton. Okay.

Morton Street.

Huh? Morton Street.

Morton Street.

Morton Street. I used to live close to Morton Street. Morton Street.

Oh, I used to live... Excuse me. Excuse me. Yeah? Could you stop that?

You're giving me a bad headache.

I have aspirin to light some.

My name is Miguel.

Miguel Travera Jesus Quintero.

I like to watch people on my desk.

If they don't tell me their story, I make one up.

Would you like me to tell your story?

I think you are a Bulgarian revolutionary who is having a rendezvous

with your partner, who is also your lover and also your friend from

childhood.

And the enemies have arrested your mother over in Bulgaria.

Miguel, you've got to be on drugs.

You've got to be on some heavy drugs.

Oh, my God.

Madre de Dios, how do you mean?

You're crazy. I'm floating free on the best drugs there is.

I'm high on life.

No, Miguel, I can't tell you I'm happy after you.

When was the last time you were high on life, huh?

When was the last time you walked down into the morning and say, all the little

birds, all the little stars, all the moon in your sky?

If you haven't noticed, Miguel, most of the birds are dead from the pesticides,

and you can't see our goddamn soul, or it's in your sky because it's small.

That was very funny.

I can't be with you back.

Do you spend years?

Sometimes.

Can you put the bags over there?

Pickers.

He's not coming?

I'm in your business, really.

You're so beautiful, you know.

Like I paid to be.

Beauty like yours is light.

It gives from the gods.

Can't I wonder?

No.

No wonder.

It's a few chromosomes that came together.

You hate what you do, do you?

Why are you asking or telling?

So why you do it?

For the money.

That makes you a whore.

It's funny you should say that.

Because I'm finally realizing that's all I really am.

Just a glorified whore.

It's not too bad to be a whore.

You want to know what it feels like to be a whore?

Knowing at the age of 20, I'm just 20 years old.

And I'm all washed out.

Do you want to know what that feels like?

Okay.

You really want to know, huh?

This is $1,000.

This is your act of mind.

I doubt it.

That's an amateur rate.

You are underestimating me.

Shut up, get up, and take a shit on him.

I thought I told you to take your shirt off.

That's not so bad.

Not bad, I thought.

Those nipples are awfully small.

What's wrong with my nipples?

Too small.

No woman has ever complained about my nipples.

Turn around.

Small, nice hair.

Nice back.

You know, bigger, firmer, higher butts are in there. What are you doing?

I want to see you move.

Smile. Come on.

Movement. Go.

Go.

Turn.

You got it. All right, get out the window.

Lean back and down.

Okay, get up against the wall like this.

Watch me.

All right, here we go.

Show me that butt. All right.

Great.

Stay right here.

Stay right back.

Stay right there.

Excuse me.

I have a little proposition for you.

Seems to be a guy upstairs I like to meet.

One for you.

One for you.

You want to follow me?

A female wants to know what it feels like to be a whore.

Female whore.

Female whore.

I think we can manage that.

Mike, yeah?

Can I get paid for it?

Feel the fire.

Let it show.

Life is a candle.

Love is the glow.

Find the fun.

Thank you.

It feels too hard to hold back.

You bet that.

The moment comes and that.

No.

You feel the flood.

I want to feel my body glide

I want to drink your eyes up and throw myself in.

I want to thaw to the edge of you into a wild end. I want

to carve my name across your heart.

The sunlight dancing on your face.

Bring me to your primitive hell. Let me hand you a saving grace.

I want to play out all your fantasies. We'll do them one by one.

And then we lay exalted in the brilliance of the sun. I want you.

I want you.

I want you.

I want you to dine upon my

flesh. I've set a table for you.

And if you still hunger for more, I'll heat up another stove or two.

When the night time comes along, I'll lay you in shame.

I want you.

What do you see?

Do you see a car?

No.

I just see a taxi driver.

Makeup smeared all over his face.

Thank you.

I'm still modeling from time to time, but there is something inside that

doesn't grow old or ugly.

A bird of extraordinary light.

Every once in a while, we need to be reminded of that.

And Miguel, well, let's just say he's still hanging around.

Alia.