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It's often said you're "up against the wall"

when you have to show your mettle, your true face...

as if the rest of the time you hid your gut feelings behind a phony face,

an extra head for putting up a false front.

Me, that's all I see - faces.

They seem real, more real than what's conveyed by words.

I feel lost in everything around words,

everything around faces.

WhereIam, there's nothing but words and faces.

This woman, with her sullen face and her lost expression,

is most likely me, and she's real.

But I don't recognize myself in her.

Nothing meets her eyes but faces -

lone faces, lists of faces,

groups of faces, men's faces.

Being separated from a man

means living in exile among all men.

Nothing comes to her mind

but words disconnected from phrases -

lone words...

lists of words, groups of words.

There are words in her head, immobile and suspended,

words that are emotions:

desire, death, disgust,

or pain, pang, panic.

There are words that are things:

backpack, bag, beans.

There are words that are gestures, ways of acting:

eat, beat, cheat.

There's the word "face"

for all the faces that are nameless for her...

each one like a voyage.

She passes by and observes,

but all she knows is

that they all close their eyes when they sleep.

There's one face that bears every name for her:

that of this child, who doesn't like to close his eyes,

this boy Martin, her son.

The word "Martin" means love, impatience, mystery,

daybreak, irritation, fIy, tenderness, and beach.

All the Martin words mean something,

even the silly little magical words like...

beddy-bye, cutie-pie, Mom, hush-now-will-you.

And then there are words that have lost their meaning:

cyst, cyclamen,

water lily, whipping post,

shenanigans, advantage, alibi.

They hover, then drift away, then come together,

residing nowhere.

But there's one word that has settled in

and worked its way into her very being -

the word "pain."

It's a parasite, an infection, a torment.

She says it, blabbers it, stifles it.

It strikes and pinches. The word "pain" hurts.

She hurts from the word "pain."

She can't explain it.

Diagnoses, explanations, oracles,

stories, details, psychology -

it all slightly disgusts her,

like the smell of cold soup when you lift the lid.

When you lose words like tureen, ladle,

table, warmth, and togetherness,

the only words left are soup,

solitude, separation, absence.

Yes, set phrases and explanations are disgusting.

Τhat's disgusting.

No, it's just fishing. Fishermen enjoy it.

I want you to buy me a fishing pole with a reel.

I thought fishing disgusted you.

I'd like to be a fisherman who doesn't catch any fish.

They say everyone's a fisherman, angling for something.

I remember a pastor in Poissy who said in a sermon...

"All men are sinners,

and when I say all men, I embrace all women too."

By "embrace" he meant include, encompass, unite.

To embrace doesn't always mean to be united.

All men are alone...

and when I say all men...

E.S.I. didn't call back?

What about Fox? - Not yet.

They're all the same. Oh, well.

I'll ty to have it read in New York. We leave tomorrow.

Good luck.

I left you pages and pages of typing. Chin up!

Τhanks.

Nothing else to mail but these letters?

All right. -I didn't have time.

Time passes so slowly and doesn't hurt me here.

I like this work.

I like the view in front of me.

It's like being nowhere -

a beach like a nicely kept piece of land.

They're always cleaning it, vacuuming it, raking it,

or else plowing and tilling the soil.

It's like a field with its gleaners, or a sand-colored carpet.

"The ocean washes from the sand the footprints of parted lovers."

Sand. Body of milk and sand.

Body.

In French a body is C-O-R-P-S, almost like "corpse" in English.

What can be said about the body of a man I loved?

Except that pain can be soft and sweet.

Except that in the shadows where I wander,

shadows without desire, Tom's body remains clear,

like the object of desire.

An idea, an image, a word:

body.

There was a song that went "ln the land that is your body..."

I'd say, "ln the house that is your body..."

House. Man. Home.

ln Chinese, the symbol for "peace" is

"man" + "roof" + "hearth."

What is a house? A cube. One door. Two windows.

Or two doors and two windows.

I need something not too expensive, not too ugly, not too far from the ocean,

where they don't tell me, "No pets, no children."

Tired of staying here and there -

couches, guest rooms, spare beds,

for a while, in the meantime,

just for now, for the moment.

It's nice. What do you think?

Not bad.

We'll go ask about it.

Here or somewhere else,

this house, that house,

one door, four windows...

one door, four windows.

Everything repeats over and over.

It's like laundry.

You wash it, it gets dirty, and the cycle starts again.

Like food: You cook it, you eat it, and it all starts over.

Same with the dishes. You do them, and it all starts over.

You do and do again...

make and unmake.

It's always work.

She writes, I type.

She corrects, I type.

She edits, I type.

She dictates, I type.

I go to bed, I sleep.

I get up, I sleep.

Everyone does the same actions over and over, and then...

they wait.

I didn't used to think that way before.

Actions used to mean something, like sentences.

This pain can't last.

I'll wake up soon.

Then, like before, I'll do all those things,

and it will simply be my life.

Simply my life.

Why do we have to move out of Lisa's?

We're sort of in the way.

Are we in Phil's way too?

Sort of, I guess.

I like Phil.

You can't turn off the light. I haven't done my French.

You always find some trick to keep the lights on.

I have to learn the verb "to finish" in the present tense.

I'll teach you the future now: "You'll finish that tomorrow."

- And I have to pack my books. - Go ahead.

I have to remember where our other things are:

boxes and a suitcase at Charles's,

a bed at Sylvette's, some dishes at the Knops'.

And where's my winter coat, the one I had when I came here?

I have to write to Mother, Paul Chabert, and Joëlle.

I'm sorry, but I really need my own space.

I understand.

You've been a big help.

Martin really loved Buffy.

Τhanks again for everything.

And say good-bye to Phil.

Listen... why did you say "loved"?

We'll see each other again - Phil, Martin, Buffy.

Of course. Bye.

Mom, they left the "For Rent" sign up.

What should we do? - Take it down.

- Where do I put my toys? - ln there.

It'll be your own space: your things, your toys, your bed.

You mean I'll be sleeping...

all alone?

You'll be fine. You'll see.

lf I don't like it, what'll we do?

lf he doesn't like it, what will I do?

lf they don't like it, what do they do?

Men, women - what do they do?

- Men and women, in the plural? - "Font."

- F... - ...O-N-T.

Recite the present tense again.

- Je...? - Fais. F-A-l-S.

Tu fais. F-A-l-S.

- And what verb is that? - "To make."

Very good. To make.

Make breakfast.

Make coffee.

Make and unmake.

Make merry.

Make both ends meet.

Make love.

I know nothing about them,

not even if they close their eyes when they make love.

Or if they've just made love.

Are they about to? Do they want to?

When? How do they do it?

And what if they don't?

They make. To make.

What can we make?

Make children. Make a mistake.

Make merry. Give pleasure.

Pleasure. Love. Secret.

Luggage. Depot.

Lockers. Packages.

Movement. Wandering.

Move out, move in.

Household. Set up house.

Home, sweet home.

At home...

Emilie?

It's Ginou.

Ηow did you find me?

I heard you were working for Delphine...

so I called the consulate to get her number.

I'm glad to hear your voice. Are you in Los Angeles?

Yes, for a week. I'd love to see you.

It's been so long. Are you doing okay?

- I'm fine. - How's Martin?

Ηe's fine.

And Tom?

We broke up.

lt can't be! Not you two!

You got along so well.

I can't believe it.

Just yesterday I was telling the friends I'm staying with about you.

Emilie, I'm so sorry.

I had no idea. What happened?

Oh' I don't know.

Tell me what happened.

After we came to America...

things just didn't work out.

How's Martin taking it?

Ηe doesn't say much.

What about you? Are you holding up?

I'm so sorry.

I'll come see you, okay?

I'd like that.

I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel bad.

At least tell me you're okay.

Sometimes, when I don't know what to do with myself,

I come here just to watch this woman.

She transfixes me, caIms me down.

I forget about everything.

Her name is Millie. I saw it on her nametag.

My name is Emilie.

If I had a nametag,

I'd put "Will Return Soon" on it.

The hair piled on her head is like a maze.

Where is Ariadne's thread?

Ariadne, my sister.

Millie, my sister.

I'm lulled by those waves, those curls, those twists and turns.

I drift away.I suffer less.

Respite. Rest. Refuge. A voyage to the ends of the earth.

Silent women. Not dangerous.

Exile. Exoticism. Baubles.

Miss Lonelyhearts. Neurasthenia.

Limp and sad.

No, rigid. Blocked. Stupefied.

Shaken up. Knocked out.

How much longer?

To wait, hold on,

live with this only child.

Too afraid or lazy to do anything else.

Never get involved again.

Not to desire is as aggressive as to desire.

Desire. . . you brought me to the shores of rapture.

I drift away.

I want the shore.

"Ariadne, my sister, abandoned forevermore,

from what wounds of love did you die on this shore?

I had this made for you.

Τurn it and push. It's a little hard.

Don't worry. I'll manage.

You see? We're better off here.

Your school's not far. You can walk there yourself.

I wish you and I could walk to school together.

You could be a teacher or a playground monitor,

like that lady in red who's always watching on the playground.

Or else you could buy a typewriter and type at home

instead of going off to type at other people's places.

You could stay home,

and I could pIay with my friends right outside,

and I'd always know where you were.

Ah, you're here!

Of course. Come inside.

Don't go off without telling me.

When I leave the door open, you know I'm around.

Stop hitting me with your dinosaur.

You splash mud all over me.

Stop it.

You're always getting mad about something.

Come on.

I like living in the middle of all these boxes.

You do?

I'd like us to settle down and find some furniture.

No, no furniture!

Let's not get any furniture.

We can't live out of boxes forever.

Not forever, but at least...

for as long as we live here.

Don't worry. We'll see.

All Iwant is a television.

- This one? - Yes, that one.

Let's roll it.

Don't hurt yourself.

What are they looking for?

Stuff to eat?

Stuff to keep?

OId stuff?

It's dirty in there, full of critters.

I'm afraid of critters.

Not the ones we know,

like snails, dogs, cats, or lions.

Well, maybe lions a little bit,

but the beasts that come out at night,

the ones we don't know,

the ones we never see.

The ones that live in the dark.

I'm afraid of the dark too.

I'm afraid when I don't know what I'm afraid of.

So am l, kiddo. So is everyone.

We're all afraid sometimes.

We're all just human beings.

That's no reason to turn on the light.

I can't sleep.

Go back to your bed, Martin.

I want to sleep with you.

No, my mattress is tiny.

I'm just a tiny little mosquito.

I hardly take up any room.

No, go sleep in your own bed.

Please come in.

- Where is she? - She's not here.

- Can we wait for her? - No, she's in New York.

- New York? Τhat's impossible! - New York?

But we had an appointment.

I don't know anything about it. Let me check.

No, there's nothing written down.

We had an appointment to record her voice.

- I'm sure it was today. - We have to do it today.

My assistants are working this weekend, and the mix is on Monday.

Τhe film has to get to Cannes.

You heard him.

The film's been chosen for the Cannes Film Festival.

I don't know what to tell you.

What do we do?

Τhat woman has a nice voice. Maybe she could do it.

Yes, give it a try.

Emilie, what,s your last name?

Cooper. Emilie Cooper.

You have a nice voice, and we need a Frenchwoman,s voice.

Could you help us record this text right now?

-I don't know if I could do it. - It's easy. You'll see.

You have a nice voice. It'll work out fine.

- But what will she say? - Nothing. She,s not here.

But I'm not the one you wanted.

lt,s very simple.

It's just 1 0 pages of narration.

It's very easy.

Shall we begin?

"ln Los Angeles you can see angels walking on the Pacific waters,

but they're really just blond guys on surfboards.

You can visit the big Ηollywood studios,

and really see the movie stars.

As for me, in Los Angeles I mostly saw walls."

Cut. Good.

Do you know we counted 147 murals?

Then I still have at least 140 to see.

The one I like - maybe because I walk by it often -

shows angels who've fallen from the sky.

You fell from the sky for us!

All right.

"It's hard to know whether capital runs after work

or work after capital,

just as we don't always know whether art imitates life

or life imitates art."

ls that my voice?

No one ever recognizes their own voice.

Can i come in for a while?

Yes.

- Can I have some milk? - Yes. Ηere.

And then it's off to bed.

Okay.

Go on now.

I don't want to sleep alone.

I want to sleep with you.

My bed's too small.

You'll sleep much better alone in your new room.

We could at least move my mattress by your bed.

No, we'll each sleep better in our own room.

It's true. Give it a try.

Go on.

Sleep well, sweetie.

Sleep well.

- What are you doing? - Nothing.

Come on.

What do you want to drink?

A Coke? Fruit juice?

A Coke.

I'm going to have tea if they have it.

You remember that book about the owl?

Yes, I read it to you.

Ηe made tea out of his tears.

He'd calmly think about very sad things...

and it would make him cry into his teapot.

Sad things like -

Like a pencil too small to write with.

Yes, and leftover oatmeal that's gone cold.

Or a letter written but never answered.

Ηave you ever sent a letter...

and then it made you cry because it never got there?

Yes, because I never got an answer.

Τhe owl would also cry into his teapot

over the words "never again."

Exactly.

I know something that would make me cry so hard

that I'd fill up a big cup with tears,

a King Kong-size cup of tears.

lf you were dead, it'd be a real King Kong-size cup.

Don't say that.

Or if someone put my eyes out.

Don't we have charming talks at night!

You're teasing me.

You're right. And I see a little guy ready to fall asleep.

Yeah, I'm falling asleep.

Tell me again how you and Dad got together.

What did you say at first,

before you went to bed and all that?

Stop asking the same questions all the time.

I'm not your pet parrot.

We did like everyone else. Come on now - jump! FIy!

You know, soon you'll be all grown up.

BODIES SEPARATED... WORDS... SΗATTERED PΗRASES

Is that all? No other messages?

Τhat's all. I said you'd be back on Monday.

Don't you feel all alone in that huge house?

I'm fine.

Besides, I'm only familiar with the room I work in.

- See you Monday. - See you then.

Closed rooms.

Doors. Locks. Keys.

Beds. Lamps.

Drawers.

Letters tied with ribbon.

Parents who've gone out.

Silence.

Bed. PliIow. Cashmere.

The smell of wax.

Woods. Forest.

Mushrooms. Trees.

Hide-and-seek.

Cashmere.

I remember I had a cashmere shawl I really liked.

I lost it when we went to Germany.

I never found another one like it.

Mom!

Come here. We'll cut your nails.

Come here.

Don't make me wait.

You're the one who made me wait this afternoon.

You're too much. Τhat was the first time ever.

You think it's fun? No, not my nails.

Fine, no nails.

You think it's fun to be all alone?

Τo come home from school and you're not here?

Τhat's not fair. It's the first time, and you got in anyway.

You had your key, and you can always play on your own.

I don't want you to leave me.

I'll never leave you, Martin.

But sometimes I have work or personal things to do.

You have to understand.

I didn't like it without you.

You're just saying that.

I'm sure you had a good time outside with your friends.

So all this stuff is yours?

Yes, it's all mine. I scattered my things everywhere:

packages, suitcases, like little stones.

- You have time for a cup of coffee? - I'd like that.

Actually, I'd prefer something cold.

- A glass of white wine? - Τhat's fine.

Ηere you are.

So you've been alone ever since? - Yes.

- And it's going okay? - Yes.

Τhis is a waterbed.

I know.

It's nice here, huh? - Yes, not bad.

Enough of this. I just want to get my things.

I didn't say anything.

It's nothing serious.

You could have spent a pleasant afternoon, that's all.

Yes' I could have said yes. I said no.

Τhat's how it is. Do you have the keys?

Yes.

Ηere are your keys, my little lady.

You're free. You're alone.

Pick up your little stones. Everything's fine.

Good-bye, my little man.

Τhat's not how crabs move.

They have big eyes on the sides of their heads,

and they move like this.

That's right, with your skinny little legs,

except that's more like a grasshopper.

My little crab.

Aren't you cold?

I love it when you laugh.

Why don't you laugh more often?

Sometimes I forget.

Come on.

What are they doing? ls she dead?

No. I don't know.

Why didn't we stay longer and find out?

You know, sometimes...

I don't like this day.

Why do you say that? It's a quiet Sunday.

I couldn't watch cartoons. You haven't bought a TV yet.

I'm bored.

We just went skating a while ago.

Yeah, but you didn't skate, so it was no fun.

What about your toys?

I can't find Ηan Solo and all the others.

What about the girls next door?

Τhe girls next door aren't there today.

I want to see Dad.

I see you all the time, but I never see Dad.

Ηe buys me all kinds of stuff.

You always say I have enough.

Listen, give me your hand.

We can play marbles, or have a bite to eat,

or go out in the yard and skip around and dance the polka.

I like it when we're sad...

and then we say we'll go outside and dance the polka.

Don't you?