All language subtitles for Claire.of.the.Moon-eng

Claire of the Moon

Hello, can I help you?

Cabine 4?

Yes...

Am I interrupting?

Amy, I can't do this by myself,
you know.

Oh, sorry, I did not know
we had the visit.

Dr. Benedict, I believe that...
this is your roommate

Good morning.

Oh, I'll handle it.

Research...

Need any help?..

With your luggage.

No. No, I am fine.

Well, I'll better go back than.

Are you sure?

I can get a place nearby...

There is still so much to do...

Amy, it can wait that I come back...

Now I want you to leave before dark.

Non. And don't forget to call
Sam when you get back to town.

Well ... Have fun, I guess...

Listen.. If I finish these reports
maybe I can...

Amy,... everything is under control.

Thank you for your help.

Wow, it's Claire Jabrowski!

Tara ... Tara O'Hara ... from the
Writers Convention of Atlanta

Yes, how could I
forget.

I never imagined you here
in this wild place. Not after L.A.

Well, one jungle is as good
as the next.

I read all your books.
I loved them all.

Thank you.

Adrienne King.

Shilo.

Shilo Starbright

Isn't it fascinating how those holistic types
comes with such conceptual names.

Unlike you.

Lynn Schroeder. I am excited to be here.

I never ... well... I have published
a short stories ...

But really to be in a company of
such celebrities! It's great.

Oh, isn't that...

Noel Benedict, Doctor of Love...

I have never read "The Naked Truth"
myself

But from reliable soruces I heard that
she simply left it all hang...

Simply every which way?

Personally I think she is frustrated
eunuch.

I think you got it wrong.
A eunuch means a castrated man.

If the shoe fits ...
I say wear it..

It is not a trivial sex therapist
circuit TV, you know, she is delusional...

Excuse me.

If you need anything ...
you yell!

But make it in the afternoons,
I am late-riser!

All cottages on the east side
are retreat cottages..

Those on the west side belong to locals

and many locals think that we are
just group of crazy chicks
trying to find a meaning of life!

Just remember girls,
when you are having one of those blocks

we are here to work.

All work and no play.

Usually gets published!

Every Tursdays and Thursday at 17h we
have informal meetings

where we discuss everything from syntax
to playtex!

Optional, of course... but I can tell you
everybody starts

looking foward to it after lonely, solitary
hours of neverending torture!

Well that was all for the
intiation. Any questions?

Excuse me. I could never
work with loud music.

Sorry.

Well, I should get back to it.

Unless you want to hang out tonight.

I wanted to check out the local
coloure.

Thank you but...

You are dedicated, upright and disciplined.

So am I, but only when the mood
strikes me!

That's it. You wrote "Life can
ruin your hair".

It's been a while.

I saw you on Oprah.

Sells copy...

Did you... read it?

No, it wouldn't be your genre.

Great title.

It seamed appropriate at the time.

I was ... deeply miserable at therapy.

Has been known to have that effect.

You are up?

I am up, right.

Does the noise bother you?

I was about to take a break.

You have been up long?

Since 5h.

My God ... It's crazy.

Perhaps you might grind
your coffee at night.

Excuse me...

Is it really necessary to have
two going at the same time?

I am really focused here...
Can we do this later?

Sorry.

Don't be.

Just remember, never ending agony
is so addictive.

I am over that, Maggie... Really.

But it's so attractive to you, Noel.

Mysterious to the therapist
in terms of fine art...

And for what?

Definitely not the "Object of Passion"

Obsessing over something you can't have
is the biggest turn on.

You create passion like you sniff it.

No possession, no intents, nothing.
It never existed, Noel.

Maggie... you are such god dam pain in the ass
when you play shrink.

But I am a lovable pain in the ass.

Dating?

Not seriously.

Sleeping around?

Occasionally.

But no one in particular?

Maggie, what possessed you to put that
woman in my cabin?

Uh, I was wondering when will
you ask that question.

What were you thinking?

I thought that she will be good for you.

Get you out of yourself, I don't know...

I do, you get shit out of me.

She is rude

...unorganised... she smokes like a truck driver

She is so... straight

But interesting...

But interesting as a black widow

Dangerous, ha?

Intolerable.

I know you'll like her.

Noel... I am sorry.

I mean about earlier.

No... it is not a problem

Well, it is actually...

I get so...

so, like nothing else exists.

I am not used to co-habitating

It is difficult, isn't it?

Sharing paradise with a stranger.

And for those of you who are suffering
writing crisis or playing on weed

there is, always, Humpwhale Inn.

Planty of Hemingway's colloquialism
and ... trouble

But for tonight, this is the part when
we go around and sample

brillian bits of our marvelous
inquiery minds.

And for those of us less refined,
"get the dirt".

Non, no, no. Don't tell me. Let me guess.

I wouldn't dream of it.

Scorpion.

Astrology is just so...

Cosmique.

Isn't it, though?

Is this the part where you are
suposed to guess what I am?

Oh, but I know what you are.

It's a two step of communication:
one forward, one back

Until any progress made, it's
forgotten.

Innuendo marquise the water.

Eskimos have 300 words that indicate snow.

And although we think of English
as complex language

there is a great need for more words
to accurately accomodate saddlety.

Well, I've been playing around with this idea,
a long time.

I mean, I am only a housewife...
I am usualy so buissy.

I only had time for an outline.
I hope to get first draft while I am here.

while the twins are away.

Anyway,... it's about this planet.

Where men have to go through
child birth...

in order to be allegeable
for what I call Alpha society

Derrick Rochester gray eyes poured
burning questions

through the black hair that felt over his
forehead, giving him appearance of a pirate.

And then she saw his throbbing menhood.

visible through his lean masculine
thighs

he leaned his hand...

the valce was begining ...

Dare she dance this dance of forbidden love?

Words

Float

Meaningless

Labels...

Separate...

Language binds..

But if there is none?

That is so...

Spiritual.

Personally, I think that we should
create a women language dictionary...

To incorporate all the nuances we
have no words (yet) for.

Oh, shit, I can see it now...

Men pulling out their little pocket translators...
stashed well behind their...

Maggie, don't be such a separatiste.

Men are just as interested in clear
communication as we are.

Than why we are having such god dam
time understanding one another?

Because, we comunicate in two
different languages.

So, they are different. But only thing
important is language of loving.

Universal dance...

The primal connection.

You are talking about the Evil deed?

No, she is talking about great debate.

Well, so far as I am concerned that is
the only language we need.

That is probably what cave woman
said right after she was raped!

Maggie!

What about Dr. Benedict? You wrote
"Naked truth".

Stared quite a fire.

Noel is like that.

Tell me Doctor?

Don't you think that some things
are better left unsaid?

Yes. And I noticed how well you did
in that economy of expresions in ...

What was it?

"Lust in the night"

Can I help you find something?

Aspirine.

Rough night?

No pain, no gain.

There might be easier way?

You would know, right?

That is what you do, isn't it?

You and your fucked up shrinks.

That is not term that I apply to
my practice.

Let's just say that I have never met a shrink
that is less fucked up than people they try to fix.

We are only human.

If a suregon was missing a piece of himself
like a hand or an eye,

I would expect him to find a different profession.

We are all missing pieces.

That does not mean that we can't
help other to find theirs.

You therapysts...

You are so good in handing out aspirine,

and the obvious.

If I was so obvious, I doubt
you would be struggling so succesfuly.

I want another room.

What?

I am not in the mood for
experimental co-habitation.

Maggie! I can't get any work done.

She is intrusive, running in
all hours at night,

a slut ...

common garden version of a slut.

Do you suppose that we might get
an understanding?

I doubt it.

A compromise?

Look, we are just opposites.
You stay North, I'll stay South.

Than pearhaps you might help so the
things smooth a little bit.

You shrinks just love rules, don't you?

Be spontaneour... Love life... Embrace it.
But do it by the rules.

Are you finished?

I came here to work.

But it is extremely difficult to be
this fragmented.

I would like that situation is
bearable for both of us.

Good. First of all, our schedules are
completely different.

Your hours are completely opposite of mine.

I think that we can work something out, so
to respect each others phases and schedules.

What? Have you forgotten women's
movement?

Not at all.

We've been apoligizing ever since.
Like a child discovering it's independence

crawls bravely out but when spots
a bit of danger runs back to its mother.

We don't allow anyone, including
ourselves, any individuality.

You mean sexual preference?

All of it.

Theoretically, we are evolved group of women
who are, from one reason, or another

find a judgment with one another lifestyles,
work, compromises.

Some compromises are not worth it.

By that you refer to my lesbianism.

If I've made any other choice that would
have been the most costly compromise I could have made.

You are scandalized by my choices.
I don't take it personaly.

But you have illustrated my point.

Even lesbians don't allow much diversity
within our sub-culture.

We are simply too affraid to take
our power.

Maybe collectively.

But individualy there is an enormous
power in being a female.

If you know how to use it.

Exactly.

And I am not talking about rough
feminine wiles.

I mean taking they rules and
shaving it back to they asses!

I don't know. It just gives
me the willies.

I mean, I am as open minded as the next person,
but there is just something... unnatural about it.

I don't get it. She looks as normal as
you and me.

All I can say is: "What a waste!"

Well Mrs O'Hara, for such an open
minded soul,

you talk like ignorant, misguided,
bigot.

She is very attractive.

I guess that I don't get it.

Maybe she was abused or something.

Boy, you are from the suburbs,
aren't you?

Personally, I think it is a defect
of nature.

Well, who would better know about defect
than a southerner.

Mizz Tara?

It's from a client.

It is good.

Strong... energetic.

I didn't mean to intrude.
I was just...

Wondering.

I begin to thing you were right
about these meetings.

Oh, women can't help themselves.

Bitchiness, must be the Y chromosome!

You know, we are out numbered.

Yes, I don't know if you noticed

but we are surrounded by dangerously
bizzare women.

Do you want a drink?

Scotch, ok?

Yes.

I would say that you have balls
but you'll probably take it wrong

What do you mean?

Tonight, being so out.

Oh... that...

Well, it would not do any good to my clinets
and readers if I hide behind protocol.

That is not a problem, isn't it?

Not for me.

Some women...

Oh... don't worry.

I don't have any inner homophobia.

That's what you shrinks call it,
inner homophobia?

I am into what ever feels good
at the moment.

And after that?

I wait for the next moment.

Tell me about this pornography thing.

It is extension of the theory, actually.

About what?

Our cultural struggle with intimacy.

The only way to achieve the most
powerful excitement is through taboo.

Pornography is being one level above erotic.

Close.

And...

What si erotic?

You tell me.

Hmh. You are supposed to be an expert on
this one Doc.

Please, don't stop.

I am finished.

I had no idea.

That I have a sensitive side?

Don't let that fool you.

You have an extraordinary talent.

Oh, no please.

No, I am serious. I adore Chopin.

He is my favorite.

So wonderfully tormented.

Well, torture is his appeal.

Is that a particular obsession?

Well... let's just say it has had its moments.

"She done you wrong"...

Excuse me?

"Tore out your heart"...,

"Shred it in pieces, with her own feelings faints"...,

"Drop it into nearest damp in
the rest of the broken heart...".

How descriptive! You must be a writer.

Yes, I can see it in your eyes... wild
imagination, stormy monologues

And your eyes paint a baren landscape, darling.

With each brush wrapping around
your heart.

Sorry. Sad music always affects me that way.

You know, whatever she did...

Fuck her.

Is that your answer for everything?

All I am saying is that

no one is worth loosing your "joie
de vivre" ,... Noel.

So... this way you "hang"?

I never hang.

No, I suppose you don't.

What do you do?

Oh, I don't think its a big mystery, Doc.
It is probably the same thing you do.

I, somehow, doubt that.

Different tools, same game.

It isn't.

Isn't it?

The attraction between men and women is clear.

And between women and women?

It can be... dangerously ... simply for ever.

Hello, ladies! Mind that we join you?

Come on, honey, seat down!

It is the swelling of the crotch.

Well, we have a whole system to
size them up according our preferences.

Well tell us all about your system, Tara?

It is just a little scale: 1 to 10.
10 being the larges.

Take that lumberjack over there. He is 7.

7?... He has got to be at least 9!

Well, that depends on what you are used to.

Ok, Ok. Maybe 8. Of course, if it crucked
I would have to track it.

And you can never tell.

That is the truth.

It may be very disappointing.

Few months ago I went out with one I was sure
to be 8, maybe 9.

He was this short, for 5!

Darling, why are you looking to the table?

All this girl talk make you unconfortable?

Why should it?... I am a girl!

Oh, everyone... this is Brian Markquist, another
beach comer from New York.

Ladies.

- Hello, New York.
- Hello.

You see Adrienne, there is more culture
around here than we thought.

Apparently...

What are you doing around here?

Brian is ethical real estate broker,

for non profit land deals.

How about a round here?

Southern .... comfort.

Brian, this is Dr Noel Benedict.

Ah... your roommate.

You write as well as practice medicine?

Dr Benedict writes about all the
medicine she practices.

- Noel is a psychiatrist.
- Oho

Well, it was really nice to meet you,
but I have to go back to work.

No, don't let me interrupt. I just stop
by to say hay.

No, I have to go.

I am sure you'll have no problem
coming back.

Yes...

No problem.

You hate men?

Not at all.

But, you couldn't wait to get out
of his presence.

I just couldn't see any point staying.

What is it?

What?

That makes you what you are?

I am not exactly sure.

So, what's the theory, Doc ?

Depends on what makes you feel safeties,
I suppose. Environment...

History of abusive relationships with men.

Genetic which bears out more and more.

Non of which really matters.

So, forget the speeches.

What do you think?

Roll the dice.

When did you know?

Its little personal.

I thought it was your job.

Ok. What do you want to know?

How did it started?

I was 27 years old.

She was ah... a patient.

There was something engagingly tragic
about her.

I felt instantly.

It is, after all, why I joined this profession.

So I may guiltlessly indulge my obsession
with tragedy.

Compulsion to fix it.

I thought that it was the case, you know.

She was so damn fascinating.

And I was hooked to her so utterly,

that I found myself rearranging my entire
life around that one appointment.

Wednesdays, at 5 pm.

Than one wednesday

almost a half hour late,

she walks in,

no aplogises.

She knew that I was waiting, and that
I would ... continue to wait.

It didn't matter.

She was apsolutely stunning.

And I knew what she was going to say,
she was leaving...

Leaving town... she was...

... getting married.

She walked over to me, and said:

"It is better this way"

Then she kissed me.

One kiss?

One kiss...

I didn't know a thing about myself
until that kiss.

Didn't know what I want until that kiss.

I felt to be utterly arouse.

For I didn't understand any of it...

till that moment.

He used to beat my mother.

I hated her.

I hated her ignorance.

And I hated her for leting him
do that to her.

Did he abuse you?

No.

He was afraid of me.

Afraid?

That is how I learned about my power,
you see.

13 years.

At 13 years...

I was pure instinct.

I didn't have a verb for that.

But I knew...

as suerly as I was unique female...

that men were compelled...

to battle people and things, in some primal
bleeding way.

But beside their brutal force, they were... lost,

lonely, pathetic little creatures,

forever extinguished from their mother's
breasts.

And when I knew that I don't hate the,
but I pitty them.

I understood power. I knew it.

And I let him know that I know it.

He never even laid a hand on me.

I think I drunk most of it, didn't I?

No. I had some. Maybe a glass.

You tell me what were you like in
high school?

I've never seen two people
more ill suited.

Maggie, you know that whenever you
get into this stuff it turn in one big drama.

So I got nothing better else to do.

Why don't you go to living room, while
we get coffee and argue some more?

Quite a pair.

Yes... They have been partners for almost
20 years now.

How long have you know them?

Ever since I first started coming here.

5 years ago.

Maggie is a character.

And teddy-bear, underneath that fire.

And... what about you?

Underneath that all?

How is the probe?

You know... the intimacy thing.

Oh... well... ok, I suppose.

Oh, shit, girl. Don't sound so
enthusiastic.

I am just bored with it.

It is kind hard to write about
something you are not experiencing, isn't it?

I am sure that Noel's senses and recalls
are just fine.

So... come on...

Oh, don't be so god damn mysterious.

That is just it, there is no mystery.

A relationship of communication
to intimacy is simply being overlooked.

Most of us are so vulnerable
and filled with neurosis,

that we are not really equiped to
truly comunicate.

No problem. We simply match neurosis.

Equal in all things.

Equality has nothing to do with intimacy.

In fact, intimacy would be far easier

if we would understand honesty of inequality.

- So now eqality doesn't exist?
- Let's just be honest and except it.

You like to do this to me, and I
like it done.

Ok, Doctor.

Than what particular Petri dish creates
this elusive state of intimacy?

Halula. Tango.

Quite often the most direct road.

So, intimacy is only possible
during the sexual act?

That is exactly what I am not saying.

Men are probably more dishonest during
sex than in any other time.

We all are searching ... with this
insatiable hunger to be intimate.

Truly intimate. But you have to see how
far we want to go to achieve it.

What a dready prognosis.

So, how do we find it?

Different ways. Some of us get it
from our friends.

Rare few get it from our lovers.

Others fuck strangers.

If we open ourselves to someone,
we run a risk of being judged.

We have to justify what erotizes us.

And what if we want somethnig from
our partner that disgust them?

And what if it doesn't?

Don't you think it is possible to find
accord of minds during the act of sex ?

Great sex does not equal intimacy.

So you say that men and women can't achieve
intimacy.

It can be imitated, it can be simulated.

But men and women will never speak same language.

And so, men and women can never achieve
true intimacy.

So that rare achievement is reserved only
for dykes?

That would be the logical conclusion.

Pearhaps it comes back down to our language
problem...

Excuse me, Doctor, but I think that
your rhetoric sucks.

I am sorry.

About last night.

None of it was directed to you.

Wasn't it?

It is not a lesbian issue.

Well, it seemed you reffer it
as one...

It is issue of communication.

When you think of two women making love,
you imagine some pretty wild sex.

Truth is that they feel just as exposed
and vurnelable.

Anyway, I just wanted to apologise.

I thought I might buy you a dring
in that place that you are so fond of.

I read your book.

Very enlightening. Not my cup of tea,
but it is rather fascinating.

Tell me something.

This Butch/femme thing. It sounds
simulated to me.

You are reffering to male role playing.

In some cases it is. But it has one critical
distinction.

In our world butches like to give pleasure,
not to take it.

I find so easy to drink here.

Bars do have that effect.

No, I mean here... at the beach.

So, what are you working on?

This is leading to a pep-talk.

No... Come on... What is it?

It is work in progress.

More views on contemporary dysfunction.

Not quite...

It is...

a novel.

What is this novel about?

Sex!

A sizzling sexual pad?

Sure. Some Tara O'Hara sanitized sex.

I hardly think that is your m�tier.

What is?

Oh, I would say very rough, raw, down
and dirty sort of sex.

Well, as a therapyst,

I suppose that you have exact definition
of rough, raw, down and dirty sort of sex.

Yes, it's called fucking.

Ouch, that sounds like a nasty habit.

Lesbians do fuck, don't they?

Tell me, how do they exactly
without proper apparatus?

It doesn't take great deal of
imagination to figure that one out.

I've been wondering... If they are so
well adjusted.

Why are they so attached to their dildos?

Dildos have nothing to do with penises.

It is about penetration.

It feels good.

Sex is sex.

Maybe for you, but sex between women
is as raw as it gets.

What are you doing?

Answering your questions.

This is not about me.

- Isn't it?
- No.

Than why such potent curiosity?

Merely... academic.

Merely.

What are you afraid of Claire?

It is a gift of light.

It's a shame.

Exactly.

How can you say that?

No, you allow that your intellect
betray your hearts.

Romance is a gift of feeling.

And no matter how you get there
it's divine intervention.

The pure radiance of it.

It is a matter of semantiques.

It is a matter of camouflage.

I wouldn't think that pragamtic of
your orientation would think any different.

You think that there is no "to die for"
lesbian romantics?

You the worst kind.

We used to have one pine,
and we got two.

Romance the second power.

You... always do this. You have to
tire apart everything.

It's the only way to get there, darling.

We are still being culturated as
women who lounge to bond,

mate, regardless of our sex orientation.

But straight women are better
in boundaries.

You are right. But it is not matter of choices.
The boundaries are imposed.

Which is what makes them so f....
uptight and rigid.

I am certanly not!

I wouldn't have write kind of novels I do
if I was uptight and rigid.

Then come here, darling.

What?

Come here.

Now, you. Come.

Two of you are sorority sister who
knew each other 5 years ago.

You have just run to each other
at Kennedy Airport.

You look at one another. It takes 1 minute
to remember.

But then you remember.

This is the woman who stayed up all night
when you has your first big hangover.

You look one another, and than you hug.

So hug.

You are best friends. For God's sake.

Let's give them a hand, folks.

1 point of 5 on hug meter.
Skin contact 20%.

Scenario 2.

BJ and I.

We are two lesbians who just met at the
parking lot.

We've spent entire evening discussing
Martina'a outer brilliance

and wondered if she would have
won Wimbledon for the 10th time

if Judy's wasn't so premeditated.

And now it is time to bid at you.

This, ladies, is hugess completess.

Note the full body contact.

Position of our legs.

We feel one another.

Softness

The warmth.

And they just met at the
park lot?

And now I want to know... straight women
as so open and unhibited,

Why the hug as opposite end of a magnet?

You made your point. Can we go back
to the original issue?

Yes. Please.

What?

Semantiques of romance in literature?

Or that throbbing bullshit you write
to alienate women from themselves.

No, I fall on the 1st amandman.

Seems, lesbians love to attack my work.

I think that it is just fascinating.

I am sure you do, darling.

It will probably end up on one
of your door stops.

Only in reverse.

Where the straight heroine would
convert poor confused dyke

who has been following said heroine
on a cross-country tour

with some muscle idiot pirate
named Blake Swashbuckle.

There is nothing wrong in
women loose dull of their

unfulfilled lifes for couple of hours
with one of my books.

Nothing, except themselves.

We don't want to loose our sense
of humor, do we?

Fantasy is healthy. Right Doc?

As long as we know where to draw the line.

That is right, draw the line.

But cleaning up,

never changes the way it was, darling.

It never has, it never will!
If you eat pussy, you eat pussy!

Do you think it's true?

What?

What she said.

About?

About the way that straight women hug.

Maybe an over generalisation.

I think it is true.

I just came to get some aspirine.

Headache?

Aha, impossible.

Well, here, sit down.

Go ahead.

Relax.

Better?

Yes... Much.

Thank you.

I am bored.

Yeah, I am like that myself.

Got any ideas?

2 and 2.

How about 3 for 5.

This time let's make it more
interesting.

What do you have in mind?

How about a frendly weigher?

The winner gets a shot of Tequilla

and a loser

has to part

with a fantasy.

You are on?

So much for the winner.

Come on.

Out with it.

And not some housewife masturbation
fantasy, either.

Ok... It is in the bar.

Dark, smokey, sweaty.

After a day of intense heat.

Kind of day when a earth explodes
when you step on it in the deepest summer.

At the end of a dancing night.

You are the winner why, the hell,
am I so drunk.

Your turn.

It is a restaurant or public place.

Starts with the eyes.

Always the eyes.

Well, at least we have one thing in
common.

Anonymity.

Are you going to Maggie's party?

- No.
- No?

It's friday night. I don't want to
miss any excitement of Humpwhale Inn.

No. That would be such a tragedy.

Her husband left her.

It seems that after few weeks of
taking care of kinds

he found himself feeling
suffocated.

Jesus Christ!

Drink it!

Men are shit.

That is right, darling. You just
speak out whatever comes to your mind.

Not all men!

Aren't they?

It may seem tough right now.
But there are many ways to heal.

The prayers... crystals.
I could re-calibrate your heart chakra.

Sounds like realignment.

Well, it is in a way.

But it will start the process sooner.

Rebearthing might be a good idea, too.

When you are next time around...

There be no next time around.

Sure there will.

Come on, let's dance.

Go on, honey, it will do you good.

Come on, Noel, dance with me.

- No. I don't want to.
- Oh, come on.

Strip down that cool professional
attitude and get down girl.

Fuck you you fucking son
of a bitch!!!

Strike out?

Not exactly.

But reality... such a poor substitution.

Did you get what you were
looking for?

No. No, I didn't.

Do you even know what you want?

Maybe you can help me figure
that out ... Doc.

I never mess with straight women.

No?

Why not?

It takes to many straight priviledges.

What if... they are just following their
destiny?

Destiny? I think you are confusing that
with fleeting interest.

What about your... Oh, what was that
exotic supposition?

Ah yes, a vampire theory.

In one of your books.

It's not my theory, it's allegory.

Whatever... It does have merit.

Who for?

Oh, I think that...

converting someone it can be the highest
seduction.

You pierce the skin, you suck
the passion from them...

And you leave them wanting.

Forever.

Until it becomes uncomfortable.

And the husband finds out.

Opening doors can be very exciting.

But not for me.

Beside, I never get involved with
women who tried both sides of the fence.

Sounds that you never get involved,
at all.

You mean fucking for a quick
thrill.

That myth has been destroyed.

You think that if you just talk about,
that it will happen, don't you Noel?

If you just reind your little
hypothesis amd theorems tight enough,

distill them into final intellectual
analyses...

and it will... boom...
it will just happen.

Like sponataneous combustion.

It takes heat for that, Noel. Heat.

You can't look me in the eyes, can you?

You are afraid of me.

Claire...

Don't flatter yourself.

Shit.

Just more tourment.

It is more than that.

You play...

To you.

My dear prof. Lindfield used to
bellow.

You must connect with the keys Claire.
Make the music you.

The notes are your blood.
A music is your heart.

What is that?

It is not finished.

Yours?

Well, actually it's...

It's yours.

I called it "Mystery of Noel"

How about Claire's mystery?

Is that a shrink thing always answering
question with question or

is that just an annoying habit?

- You know "Clair de lune"?
- Moonlight.

It is an appropriate theme...

Claire reaching for the moon.

Play it.

Who is affraid now?

Title by *** THaLia ***