All language subtitles for BlissBlissBlissBlis

Bliss.

This is the story
of the vision splendid.

It had been dry for eight weeks

and the whole of the sky
was full of dust.

Nobody thought
it would ever rain again.

And then, one afternoon,

we saw the storm clouds
coming from the south

and we prayed for rain.

Your mother, who I didn't know,

went to church
and she prayed for it to rain.

And I prayed too.

But not in church.

And then I'd say, Did it rain?

Did it rain?

My father would say, When
your mother asks God for rain...

it rained like all the air was a river,

and the drains in the street filled up

and the water crept out
across the main street

until it swallowed it.

I was down at the co-op,
shifting flour and grain

and I just looked up, just glanced up,

and that, my father would say,

was when I saw the vision splendid.

And I'd say, What was it?
What was the vision splendid?

And he'd say, it was your mother, lad.

Your mother standing
in the bow of the boat

piled high with things
from the church.

She was standing in the bow,
holding the cross.

And her eyes...

And her eyes, my boy.

Her eyes...

All that water and such luminous eyes.

Good story, Harry. Yeah.
Heard that 50 times.

Has he told that story before?
Yes. Of course.

This cake is great.

Everybody should have
another piece of this.

This is a story
about a fella who told stories -

Harry Joy.

He wasn't the most clever bloke
you ever met.

He wasn't even very original.

But everyone thought
he was a good bloke

and he was happy with the world
and his place in it.

He loved his wife.

And she loved him.

In her way.

He was proud of his son,
who, as everyone knew,

was going to be a doctor.

And his daughter
was all set to be a social worker.

He got on well with his junior partner.

He got on well with everybody.

Even the Clarks.

I'll give you a hand.

Yeah.

Lu, come on.

I'm keeping my balloon.

Harry Joy had
a more or less successful business -

a little advertising agency.

He owned his own house.

He loved his family.

He believed what he read in the paper.

Why shouldn't he be happy?

He had one big problem
that he didn't know about.

He was about to die.

Harry saw his death
as if it was someone else's.

He watched himself
from outside his body.

And he wasn't scared at all.

He found he could slide between
the spaces in the air itself.

Mum!
Ecstasy touched him.

He was stroked by something
which felt like trees -

cool, green and leafy.

It occurred to him that he'd died.

Then he got scared.

He felt walls like membranes,
which shivered with pain.

And a sound... a terrible sound,
which promised meaningless tortures,

like the Christian stories of his youth.

He recognised the world of pleasure

and the world of pain.

Bliss,

punishment,

heaven

and hell.

He didn't want to die.

And in a calm, clear space,

he found his way back to his body.

Harry Joy had been dead
for four minutes...

...and he would never be quite the same
again, let me tell you.

Watch this.

G'day, Betty.

How much?
Fill it up.

Sorry. What?

Fill it up!

What?!

Don't be a bastard!

My daughter.

Can't stand the smell of petrol.

Hates it.

Drives her crazy.

Remember her little pram?
Used to park it over there.

Little Betty.

Relax, Mr Joy.

Just relax.

Your wife's coming in
to see you after lunch.

Hiya, Aldo.

She tricked me.

I would never have given her
Harry's table if I'd known.

I thought she was
having lunch with Harry.

I didn't know he was in hospital.

Everybody else knew.

They shouldn't do it at Harry's table.

A very dry martini, Aldo.
And very dry this time, huh?

I ordered you a daiquiri.

I don't like daiquiris.

I would have drunk it.

What a pair of creeps.

Harry's in hospital
and they're screwing each other.

I'd lay money on it.

The doctor says he'll be fine.

A coronary bypass
is a dangerous operation,

but he's confident he'll be fine.

Marvellous.!

He shouldn't smoke.
I told him.

I told him too!

He won't listen.
He'll be fine!

He won't!

He won't die!

See? What'd I tell you?

Poor Harry.

Everybody loves him...

...except his wife.

Here comes the little monkey.

He knows.
Rubbish!

How?
He must have smelt you.

Can you really smell me? Huh?

Like sardines.

Hope that will be dry enough, sir.

Yeah.

I'm going to die.

Stop it.

Don't be angry.
No, I'm not angry.

Bring your chair a bit closer.

Come on. Come and give me a kiss.

What have you been up to?

Nothing.

You smell like whiskey.

I had a drink with Joel.

Listen, you stop all this dying rubbish.

It's just like your hives - you're
gonna talk yourself into it...

No, no. You don't understand.
It's not the dying that I mind.

Look, I don't want you to die.

Do you believe in God, Bettina?

Something happened to me
when I had the attack.

I haven't told anyone.

I had a vision.

I left my body and I went up into the air.

Maybe you should see a psychologist.

It was a warning.

I saw heaven.

And hell.

There is a heaven and there is a hell.

Mmm. I'll get him fired.

Who?
That doctor. He's a clumsy fool.

No wonder you're frightened.

No, you don't understand.
It's got nothing to do with the doctor.

He's got sausage fingers.
Yeah, I know.

You're too nice to go to hell, Harry.

If anyone's going to hell,
it's going to be me.

It is harder for a rich man
to enter the Kingdom of God

than for a camel to pass through
the eye of a needle.

I'm going to die.

I am going to die.

Excuse me, I was wondering
if you might tell me

where I could find Harry Joy.

Just behind those pink flowers.
Thank you.

G'day. Join you?

Yeah, go for your life.

Ha!

Odd socks!

I'm wearing odd socks.

Sometimes I go to the laundromat
with pairs

and I come back with all odd socks.

And sometimes I go to the laundromat
with odd socks

and I come back with pairs.

Sometimes.

Harry.

Des.
The Reverend Des?

You bet.

Well, then.

As the joys of heaven
are enjoyed by men,

so shall the pains of hell be suffered

as they will be men still...

.. so will they act and feel as men.

Er...

So, Harry, do you think
that God is such a bastard

that he'd want to torture you
for all eternity?

Yeah. Why shouldn't he?

Well, it doesn't make sense.

It'd be like you...
wanting to hurt flies or ants.

That's right.

This was written in 1649.

Yes.

Well, it's a bit out of date, isn't it?

We're talking about eternity

and you're quibbling about 350 years.

And if it was true once,
it must always be true.

And what about all the people
he sent there in the Middle Ages?

Have they all been allowed
to come home?

Are you saying
there is definitely no hell?!

There is a hell!

Well, look, I just don't think
that God would want to harm us.

Maybe not your God.

Maybe another God.

Maybe it's a 'they' and not a 'he'

Or maybe it's a great big
empty part of space,

I mean, charged with electricity.

Well, then I can't help you.

Or maybe I'm wrong. Don't you see?

I might be wrong.
Harry, your face.

It's only my bloody hives.

Maybe we should have
talked about cricket.

Stay.

Aren't you gonna pick it up?

Why should I?

So you can hide it in the back of
the Fiat with the rest of the money.

It's Okay.
I found it there months ago.

If you tell anyone, I'll kill you.

I know.

You're going to New York, aren't you?

In New York,
there are towers of glass.

It's the most beautiful
and terrible city on earth.

When God makes the next flood...
Shut up.

It's just a story!

Just get out of here, will you?

And if you've come here
scrounging for freebies, forget it.

David, please.

You don't understand,
do you?

This is my business. If you want coke,
you have to pay for it.

And where do I get 200 bucks?

250.

Come on, David.

Be nice to your sister.

My sister won't be nice to me.

Is that what you want?

I just want my sister to be nice to me.

For a deal?

Yeah?

Wouldn't you rather have the money?

Okay, then.

Get it out.

Don't talk like that.
Like what?

Don't talk tough. Talk soft. Okay?

Okay.

Sister. Little sister.

Betty's home.

Hello, Mummy. How's Daddy?

In New York,
there are towers of glass.

It is the most beautiful
and terrible city on earth.

All good, all evil exists there.

And if you know where to look,
you can find the devil.

He drives down 42nd Street
in a Cadillac with black windows.

He lives in Park Avenue
surrounded by his servants...

He believes everything
you tell him. Now stop it.

My darling Patricia, you know it's true.

Come on, Mr Joy. Back to bed.

You've got a big day tomorrow.
No!

No, not tomorrow. It's the day after.

Your op's been brought forward.

No! No, I'm not ready yet.

it is harder for a rich man
to enter the Kingdom of God

than a camel to pass through
the eye of a needle.

Shit!

I've died again.

Christ.
Hurry. Do something.

It is harder for the rich man
to enter the Kingdom of God

than for a camel to pass through
the eye of a needle.

Don't say that.
Please don't say that!

God.

Dear.

Harry Joy's post-operative
period was painful and disturbing.

Slowly, during his recovery
from his successful operation,

Harry Joy became totally convinced
that he was actually in hell.

Mmf! Mmf!

They drugged him.
No.

Look, he's asleep. That's all.

I think he knows we're here.
Yeah.

Harry Joy
was conducting tests.

The purpose of these tests

was to establish
whether he was really in hell...

.. or whether he was mad.

He began by hoping he was mad.

But the more he looked,

the more he became convinced
that these were not his real family,

but clever imitations
placed there to torment him.

The evidence was mounting every day.

Dad!

Are you a communist?

Yeah.
Good.

It's true.
They did something to him.

Don't be absurd.

It's true.
Look, Lucy, stop it.

Look, when I was rubbing his head,
I saw a mark.

Nonsense.

Come on. You know
what they do in hospitals.

They make mistakes all the time.

Rubbish.

Okay.

Which verb starting with 'L '
is a synonym of 'abominate'

Miki?

Loathe.
Loathe.

His family, in moments of clarity,
saw and sensed his pain.

They did the most absurd things
to please him

but when their love
was not reciprocated,

they became angry and irritable.

And sometimes more than a little mad.

Why do you make up such
stupid stories, you silly bitch?!

I didn't! You're just too stupid
to believe me, you harlot.

Don't you call me a harlot.

You commie slug! Slug!

What are you doing?
Slug!

Never will I listen to you again. Ever!

You're going mad.
Stupid slug!

Honestly, do you really think
people believe those stories...

You're going mad, aren't you?

Listen. They're at it again.

Turn that light off.
They'll see you.

How're you doing, Davey?

Where's your father?

My father?
Yeah. Where is he?

Not my mother?

My father. Er, he's in the shed.

But he won't talk to you.

Harry?

Harry, it's me.

I've brought the balance sheets, Harry.

I said, Harry, I've brought
the balance sheets here.

The February figures
are not very good, Harry.

I've, er... done some projections
for the next two months.

Well, what do you want me to do, Harry?

Just continue.

I can... Come on! I can take advice.

Continue. Just continue.
That's my advice.

Hey! Come on.
Come on. Yeah.

Yeah, this garden salad here?

We ordered that
but, it didn't arrive.

So what I've done here,
I've corrected the cheque

and I've subtracted that amount
for you and it's now $34.85.

Thank you so much.

What's so funny? I argued
'cause he charged us for salad.

He didn't bring it.
He admits his mistake.

That was Harry. He must be feeling
better. He's going to Milano's.

We're not gonna
discuss Harry anymore.

We talk about Harry in bed.
We talk about Harry while we fuck.

We can't even come
to our own restaurant...

Well, don't talk about Harry.

Talk about how we're gonna
set up our own agency.

Talk about how we're gonna sell it.

Talk about how we're gonna
open it in New York.

Look, about New York...
Don't lay that on me.

That's Harry's big trick.
All talk about New York.

All he ever wanted to do was sit on
his arse getting drunk in this dump.

No, I didn't order this.
I did, sweetie.

No.

Excuse me.

Didn't I notice you lift your eyebrow
in a disagreeable way?

I beg your pardon, sir?

I said,
didn't I notice you lift your eyebrow

in a disagreeable way?

I'm sorry, Mr Joy,
but your usual table's full.

It's not your usual table anymore.

We're out of the Mercury Blanc.
I have some Meursalt.

And, er, pearl perch
and sorrel sauce.

And how are you, Aldo?

We eat, we shit, we die.
I myself have cancer.

No. That... that's terrible.

Terrible? Why is it terrible?

I'm gonna die.
What's so special about it?

Come on, Siam. Come on.

Oi!

Come on!
There you are, Jumbo!

Come on!

Come on, Siam. Move it!

More! A bit more! Thank you!

For old time's sake, Harry.

Harry, they're giving me chemotherapy.

Huh! And it makes me ill.

So they give me marijuana.

Counteracts the effects
of the chemotherapy.

Illegal.

Except for fortunate people like me
who are dying of cancer.

It's not bad stuff.

I mean, in comparison with wine,
it's definitely under par.

No nose, no... colour, no complex taste.

But as a euphoric, very good.
Probably better than wine.

I'm telling you this, Harry, because...

...for the first time in 15 years
I can tell that you're not happy.

I don't think it would hurt to try some.

No. Thanks, Aldo.

You just mix a little
with your cigarette, like this, see,

so that the tobacco comes out the end.

And then you put
a little pinch inside. It's easy.

Why are you talking so much, Aldo?
You never used to talk so much.

I'm stoned, as a matter of fact.

Do I look like a monster?

A devil?

Well, take it.

Take it!

Take it.

- Siam!
- Whoa, Siam. Whoa, Siam!

Billy. Billy de Vere.
Pleased to meet you, Mr Joy.

He's from the circus.

Cheer up. Cheer up. Just an accident.

A very funny story.

A drink first.
A drink first or he'll think I'm lying.

Just a wee one.
Just a wee droppy there.

Now you're talking.
That's a man's drink.

Thank you.

This must be some story.

It's nearly the same as the original story.

I think in the original story
it was a red Volkswagen.

What story?

No, it wasn't.
It was a Fiat, just like Harry's.

Anyway, near enough. Near enough.

What is this, life imitating art
or life imitating bullshit?

Harry, you know the story
about the elephant?

'Cause pretty soon
you're gonna have to be

telling it to your insurance company!

This elephant, it was trained
to sit on red boxes, see?

Big red boxes!
Red ones!

And one... one day
somebody parked their Fiat,

this red Fiat, right beside the elephant.

An elephant sat on my car?

I'm sorry, Harry!

Pull over, driver.

Pull over! Pull over!

Carn, you prick, pull over!

An elephant sat on it.

Harold, don't be silly.

If you're gonna tell us stories,
tell us something original.

An elephant sat on it.

The bloke from the circus
came and told me.

Name being?

I forget.

Phone the circus. They'll tell you.

Don't tell me what to do
and don't muck me about.

You filthy bastard.

You've been eating garlic.
I'm sorry.

You fucking stink!
I'm sorry.

Still telling funny stories?

Not very funny stories. Very old stories.

Maybe it could
think of something original.

Old stories is all it knows.

Maybe I'll just...

...pass it over to you.

Can't have that now, mate.

I think I might just pass it over to you.

There! There. That's the truth.

Alright, Harold. Sit down.

Tell us something original this time?

No elephants. We've heard
all that before.

Something new.
Something interesting.

We've heard such stories, Harold.

Anything.

About marijuana?
Anything at all, mate.

Come on. Let's just
get his statement and...

No, no, no.

Hey.

You tell a story, Harold.

He was very short.

And also short-sighted.

He wasn't good at anything.

Not sums.

Not writing.

And not even games.

His mother was short too.

She was a cockney
from Bow in England.

And she was 4'7 tall.

One year, there was
a competition on the beach -

a competition for the shortest woman.

And Little Titch - that was his name -

persuaded his mother
to go into the competition.

When the other short women saw
Little Titch's mother walk towards them,

a great cry of despair went up.

No!

That night, when they
went home on the tram,

Little Titch carried the silver cup
his mother had won.

It said, The shortest woman -
Queenscliff, 1909.

Little Titch was proud that the people
had smiled at his mother

and given her the cup.

But what he couldn't understand
was why she should be rewarded

for the very thing
he was always punished for.

They did not kick his mother
because she was small.

Just let them try.

Or pull her nose or her ears.

They did not pinch her
when she was asleep.

She didn't have to hide
beneath the laundry trough

or under the tankstand
or beneath the house.

But this was the daily lot of Little Titch.

And his big brothers always
found his hiding places

and they boxed his ears
and told him how stupid he was.

Little Titch tried to do
whatever work he was given.

His father kept stables
in Port Melbourne.

But they said he was timid and stupid

and only fit for shovelling out
the stale straw and shit.

Many a night he went to bed unwashed

with just the cold smell
of horse dung for company.

The most troublesome horse
in the stables

was a gelding called Billy Boy.

You could not touch his face

or go behind him or stand beside him.

And almost every part of his body

seemed to have received beatings
at one time.

He had cunning eyes
and he hated all human beings.

He bit and kicked
whenever he had the chance.

Little Titch's father said
he'd killed a man once.

That was why he was so cheap.

His idea was that he would be
good training for the older boys.

But after two bites and a nasty kick,

the mother forbade the boys
to go near Billy Boy.

So the father had to do it himself.

So life went on.

Billy Boy bit the father
and the father hit the boys

and the two big boys found
Little Titch's hiding place

and they boxed his ears
and pulled his nose.

But on the night
his mother won the cup...

...the two big brothers couldn't find him.

And they woke up...

...the neighbourhood
calling out, Little Titch!

It was his father who found him.

The horse killed him?

Billy Boy was standing there

and there was Little Titch,

his arms clasped tightly around
Billy Boy's huge rear legs,

his little face buried in
the furry warmth of his hock.

Come here, Little Titch.
Come here at once!

But Little Titch didn't
have to do anything at all

because the bastards couldn't touch him
and that's the end of the story.

Alright, Harold.

I think you better piss off.

Harry didn't know
quite what he'd done.

But it doesn't matter-
he'd done something good.

His old optimism flowed through him.

It warmed him like brandy.

The structures of hell
towered all around him

but they no longer
seemed unconquerable.

Today, as usual...

Pardon me.

...Alex - Alex Duval - would write
his second set of conference reports.

These reports are what
an advertising agency

dispatches to its clients after a meeting.

They document very fully
all the decisions that are made.

Not only that, it says who made them.

And every Saturday for the last 10 years,

Alex Duval had sat at his desk

and written a second set
of conference reports

in which he said all the things

he wished he'd been brave enough
to say in the first place.

Harry!
Alex.

Harry! Harry!

We've missed you.

Come outside.
Come outside where I can see you.

Harry!

Har...

Harry!

Everyone's gonna be
so pleased to see you.

Nothing against Joel.

It's... it's been fine. It's just
that it hasn't been the same.

We've missed your blind,
bleeding optimism.

You look so well.

Mmm, I've been walking.

10 years younger.

And sometimes
I go to the beach with Lucy.

Lucy! How's Lucy?

Fucking hell, Alex.

What's this?

You... you say that
saccharine causes cancer?

You've told our biggest client
that they're criminals?

It's just a joke.

I mean, you send them this
and they fire us.

Do you wanna bankrupt me? Is that it?

I don't send them out.

Have a look in the cabinet behind you.

There's... there's 10 years
of conference reports like that.

I don't send them out.

Why?

I guess I'm crazy.

Tell me, Alex.

I can't tell you. I...
You wouldn't understand.

It's ridiculous. It's...

It's my punishment.

That's what it is, Harry.

Punishment for what?

Punishment for what we do here.

For what we do here.

You're being punished for being bad?

Yeah, well, if you wanna put it like that.

So we'll be good.

That's how we'll beat the bastards.

Yes, Harry, that's very nice
but it's not very sensible.

Of course it's sensible!

We'll be good!

We?

Both of us.

You'll be good?

I think we should fire Krappe Chemicals.

I think that's the place to start.
Yeah.

Why?

They use saccharine.

So that you don't have to do your
conference reports every Saturday.

I'm damned if I'm gonna be
punished forever.

Do you wanna be in hell forever?

$2 million is a big client, Harry.

Don't you think it'd seem
a little inconsistent,

suddenly, after all this time,
to fire them?

But they
weren't doing it before I died.

Harry, they've been using saccharine
for 20 years.

Here's to us. We are going to be good.

You're gonna be broke.
Who cares?

Who cleaned up?

He's cleaned everybody's shoes
and all the windows.

Why?
He's being good.

He's what?

He's being good, he told me.

Go and have a shower.

I can't.
Why not?

He's cleaning up the bathroom.

Fuck him!

Fuck him! What's he up to?

Why do you have to humiliate me?

Why do you make me
feel like a tramp?

Hey! Hey!

You bastard!

Betty. Betty! Is that you in there?

it was exactly
one week since Harry Joy

promised Alex Duval
that he would be good.

It was already looking like a risky
and unnecessary sort of thing to do.

His notebooks seemed
a little crazy to him.

Perhaps he had been mad after all.

But he wasn't quite ready
to deny his notebooks.

He promised to undertake one last test.

Hey, you!

In the tree!

Down here!

It's only me.

Mr Joy.

What's up?

I've lost my key.

Who is it?
It's only Mr Joy. He's lost his key.

The boy is home.
Your son is home.

I know.

- He knows.
- I'm not deaf!

Do you want me to ring
the doorbell for you?

Stupid, stupid.

I want to surprise them.

Silly old fart.
He wants to surprise them.

Joel!

Whoa, whoa, whoa!
Shh!

Don't go away.

I can't wait!

Yes!

- Yes.
- Mmm!

Shhh!

Shhhit!

Hey?

My God.

He's hung himself.

Get me down!

Harry?
What are you doing?

Get me down!

My goodness.
I'm coming, Mr Joy.

Don't worry. You just hang in there.
I'll get you down.

Daddy!

Alright, Mr Joy.

I'll get you up.

I curse you.

I curse you all for all time
and without exception!

He forgot his shoe.

- Can I have a room?
- Certainly.

What are you
shaving your legs for?

Someone round here's
gotta make the money.

Honey Barbara loves the city!

Who told you that?

Honey Barbara loves the city!

I do not.

Honey Barbara loves the city!

He's taken a suite! A whole suite!
Not a room, a suite!

Honey, I do know the difference.

Yeah, well, the business can't afford it.
We're paying 90 days already.

He is not well.

He is sick - sick in the head. Insane!

Yeah? Sick, is he?

Yeah!

I know who's sick and it's not Harry.

You watch your manners!

Manners?

You send doctors to commit your
husband and you talk about manners?

I can't stand this.

He's too clever for them.
He charmed them.

Joel, if you're gonna live here,
you must learn to shut the screen doors.

The mosquitos get in.

Sorry, Davey.

David.

Yeah. Yeah, Okay.

What you need is a doctor
who can't be charmed.

Yes? Go on.

I can get it done.

Davey, I don't wanna be rude
but you're just a kid.

You're hardly an expert.
You're not an expert either.

That's why Harry's still in the Haygate.

It'll cost money.
Well, here you go. Money.

$5,000.

Do I have to listen to this?

To make money,
you've gotta spend money.

I'll pay the five grand.

You're your mother's son, aren't you?

Where would he get five grand from?

In return...
Yeah?

...I'm... I'm leaving school.

I don't wanna go to university.

I don't wanna be a doctor.
I've got a job waiting for me.

You're astonishing. I don't believe it!

A job? With who?

Frank da Silva's offered me...

Davey, he's a criminal.

Davey, he's a criminal!

He's a businessman.
A very successful businessman.

$5,000. You must really hate your father.

No!

$5,000 just to lock him up?
I don't hate him! He's sick!

- Boy!
- You're a hypocrite!

I didn't wanna do this!
I didn't wanna do it!

You tell Harry about any of this
and I'll kill you.

G'day, Harry.
Hello, Adrian.

Yes. Very nice.

Very nice indeed.

Thank you. Cheers.

Adrian...

...I can't have you as a client anymore.

I have to fire you.

Alright. Alright, I'll pay for lunch.

It's not personal.

It's not you. It's the products.

Dear Jesus, you're serious.
Yes.

You got me to drive 20 miles
so that you could fire me.

I came here to jolly you up because
I thought you'd left your wife.

Why should I leave my wife?

Well, no reason. It's...

.. it's just what I thought.

I mean, it seems a funny thing to think.

We've been married for 18 years.

You are here to be fired.

Holy Jesus. You're mad.

I have evidence that three
of your products cause cancer.

Shit.
You deny it?

Of course I don't deny it.

For Christ's sakes, Harry,
it's been going on for years.

Remember those tests in America?

Those tests were invalid.
They used too much saccharine.

Harry, Harry, Harry...

What do you mean,
Harry, Harry, Harry?

That's what you told me -
or somebody who resembled you.

We both knew that was the company line.

We had to pretend to believe it.

You don't deny that you make
products that cause cancer?

Of course I don't.

Then you're fired.

Alright. You wanna throw away money,
I'll help you throw away some more.

Room service, please.

Fucking idiot!

Bloody marvellous oysters in this country.

You know, Harry,

where exactly
are you going to draw the line?

If you fire us you'll have to fire
all your clients. I'm sorry.

That's alright.

Now, listen...

They release about 80,000 totally new
organic compounds every year.

None of them are properly tested.

God knows how many cause cancer!

The whole of the Western world
is built on things that cause cancer.

They cannot afford to stop making them.

For Christ's sake.
Look at your clients.

Austrol have benzine in petrol,
which is a carcinogen.

Mitsuzi use it making tyres.

And we... we use saccharine.

And even if we switch to cyclamates
instead, they're just as suspect.

And that other lot,
your dry-cleaning company,

use carbon tetrachloride!

And every time
an announcement is made

that something MIGHT cause cancer...

...people are less worried because
they cannot believe it possible

that half of what they breathe and eat...

...is gonna kill them.

And there you sit resigning our business
because we use saccharine!

You don't believe me, do you?

I'll show you something.

Move this stuff out of the way.

Now this...

...this is a cancer map.

It shows the incidence of cancer

according to the place of residence

and the place of work.

You see, it is not random.

If you live here, say, you are very
likely to get cancer of the lymph.

Do you know what the lymph gland does?

You see? There's
a damn epidemic going on, Harry.

You cannot even buy
a map like this anymore,

unless you know
someone very important...

...in an insurance company.

My wife has cancer, Harry.

She's...

She weighs four stone, six pounds
and people...

...people come like ghouls
to look at her!

Our real friends are nice enough
to stay away, of course.

It's alright.

Don't say anything.

But don't...

...preach to me about cancer.

I'm sorry. I have to fire you.

Shit, Harry.

Let's get some girls up here.

Don't worry about me if I talk too much.

I've got all this city shit in me.

Makes me a bit speedy.

Are you from the country?

I'm not from any place.

200 bucks. No funny stuff.

No golden showers.

I don't want any funny stuff.

But I'll need a pen.

If you change your mind, it's Okay.

I'll just call the office
and they'll send someone else.

No, no. It's Okay.
I don't want anything funny.

Better to get it all up front, then.

Cards on the table.

All hangin' out.

That's the truth.

You don't know what I'm doing, do you?

Well, it's not what you think.

I wasn't thinking anything.

Well, it's not.

Look. It's honey.

What are you gonna do with that?

You people are amazing.

What people?

Come here.

Come on. Come over here.

Come on!

Sit down here, next to me.

Now, look at my eyes
and look at your eyes.

You've got beautiful eyes.

It's honey.

Now, you... you eat too much salt.

It's all there in your eyes.

Years and years of salt.

And you've got a sodium ring too.

Yeah, it's really bad.

But you've got very nice eyelashes.

And from that angle
you look a bit like Krishna.

Yeah, so I've been told.

You know who Krishna is?

Certainly.

Really?

Yeah.

Well... would you like some of my honey?

Now, this is very powerful honey.

You shouldn't have
more than a teaspoonful.

Mmm.

Do you have lots of whores?

A few.

Well, you're in luck today 'cause
you've struck a gifted amateur.

Was it worth it?

Every cent.

How about you?

Didn't feel a thing.

Nothing?

Nup. Never do.

You must have felt something.

You see, it's all in my karma.

See, what you do in one life,
that's what happens to you in the next.

Now, I must have been
a real slut in my last life,

so in this life I don't like fucking much.

Is that the truth?
Yeah.

See, karma means
if you're good in one life

you'll have a better time in the next

and if you're bad, well, vice versa.

If you're good...

Don't you take the piss outta me, alright?

No, no, no. Tell me.

If you're good in one life,
you have a better time in the next?

Yeah.

That's what I'm doing.

But you're a businessman.

Advertising.

That's really bad karma.

No! No, I'm being good.

You can't possibly be.

I have just fired a $2 million client

because his product causes cancer.

That's him in the next room.

$2 million? Sure.

That's good. It has to be.

Well, it's not bad.

A cancer map.
It's a map of where we live.

Look at it.

Look.

Shit!

Where'd you get this thing?

I stole it from him.

You're one hell of a businessman.

I trusted you the moment you walked in.

It's my opinion that I am living in hell

and all this - this - is hell.

I'm so sorry.

Your... friend is using the other one.

Do you think I'm crazy?

Crazy?

Course you're not crazy.

Just look at the damn map.

They're trying to get me locked up.

Yeah, I'll bet they are.

How come they haven't?

I give them champagne.

The cops?
The doctors.

Won't work.

I tell them stories.

It's worked so far.

Well, it won't work for long.

Now, listen to me, 'cause this
is something I know about.

Now, don't carry and drugs and don't
have any books - no books at all.

And don't be a smartarse with the cops.
Just don't argue with them.

But don't let them search your room
without a witness.

Just be nice to them. Make them tea.

Don't let your voice shake
when you talk to them

and always have money.

Now, when the shrinks
come to get you, don't fight them,

otherwise they'll shoot you
full of pentathol

and you'll arrive
at the nuthouse unconscious.

Never, ever, ever arrive
at a nuthouse unconscious.

See, if you can arrive conscious,
you can sign yourself in.

They call it voluntary admission.

Well, if you can sign yourself in,

with any luck you can sign yourself out.

How do you know all this?

Most of all, never admit to anyone

that you think someone is trying
to threaten you, attack you,

pinch you, fuck you, get you in any way,

otherwise they'll bust you for paranoia
and lock you up for good.

Even though you're really being
irradiated by the air

and poisoned by the water.

And remember...

...one in every three is a spy.

What's your name?

Zelda.

That your real name?

What do you reckon?

Listen, you're supposed to be
selling dope,

not lying around eating dead chook.

They're expecting you home.
They need the money.

Or have you forgotten?

I think I've scored a regular client.

So who's full of city shit?

Do you think I'm doing this for fun?

No. Honey Barbara is doing it
for the good of the community.

Anyway, he's not like
an ordinary businessman.

You'd really like him, Day. He's amazing.

You're really into it, aren't ya?

You really love it.

Okay, Damien,
what's happening with the dope?

Damien?

Day?

We got ripped off.

They had a gun.

They took the lot.

Who is it?

Harry, I've got to talk. I'm drunk.

Harry.
Yes.

I'm sorry I'm drunk.

I don't mind...

Here's to me.

You've turned into a cold fish, Harry.

You never used to be cold.

You were a fool, but you were warm.

What's in there?

It's the bedroom.

How much does this cost?

Fuck you, Harry!

You went and left us in the lurch.

You fire a $2 million client - my client -

and you don't even tell me!

What is in there?

Alex, don't you remember?
I promised I'd fire them.

I didn't ask.

You decided.

You interfered in my life,
in my private life.

So I'm crazy.

Did I ever hurt you?

All your life, you walk about,

you don't see anything bad,

and now you bloody wake up - why?

What do you want to destroy me for?

Alex, Alex...

Why do you want to destroy me?

I'm leaving the agency.

I am resigning.

And you -

you are pathetic!

Adrian Clunes is taking his business
to Burns and MacArthur

and he wants me to go with him.

All those years that I was in accounts

and you were taking profit?

Well, I am going to be a director
and I am going to get some profit.

Hey, look at you looking at your watch.

I was just trying to say that I'm sorry.

I've got to earn a living.

Alex, I'm gonna put you to bed.

You would have had to have
fired me in the end.

Just don't blame me.

I'm only Alex.

Fuck it.

Would you get out?
What are you doing?

This is ridiculous.

If you get up at 4:00,
no-one can ever get you.

You get used to it.

Do you always get up at 4:00?

Your alarm clock is your key to freedom.

I'm glad I met you.

I'm glad I met you.

I couldn't hack it without ya.

What does he weigh?

Approximately 140, 160.

Good morning, Mr Joy.

This is Dr Cornelius
and I'm Dr Hennessy.

Now, we'd like you
to come with us very quietly

and we'll take you to a place
where they'll make you feel better.

What?

Poor man. He fought 'em.

They'll let him go. When they find out,
they'll have to let him go.

Don't count on it.

The nuthouse gets a subsidy.
They'll want to keep him.

What are you doing? What are you...

I'm not gonna have this
on my conscience.

No!

No. You can come and live with me.

You probably wouldn't like it anyway.

They'd think you were a spy.

Hello, Joel?

Doctors Cornelius
and Hennessy

called on Harry Joy two weeks later.

They arrived at four o'clock
in the afternoon,

injected him swiftly

and carried him off
without the slightest struggle.

Now, what have they
told you about me?

Have you seen me on television?

This is a mental hospital
where we lock up mad people.

First unpleasant fact.

Second unpleasant fact -

this is a business

and I am doing it to make money
just like anybody else.

What is the purpose of this business?

It's to make money.

This is a human garbage disposal.

Do you find that shocking?

The old men are soaked in urine.

Someone threw them out.

Do you find that shocking?

Well, it's not shocking. It's life.

Yes?

When do we get our ginger coffee?

There's no ginger toffee here.

Yes, there is.

He means ginger toffee.

We chose this project
so we get ginger toffee.

Take them across to the ginger factory.

It's where you were meant to be.

- Put me down!
- Go away!

Stay away!

Let me go!

No! No!

Put me down!

Let me go! Let me go!

Let me go!

Let me go! Let me go!

Let me go! Let me go!

Mr Joy, I am Alice Dalton.

This is my hospital and you are here
because you are sick.

Unpleasant fact number one.

Unpleasant fact number two -

you are in the wrong bed.

Please don't interrupt.

When we assign you a bed,
we do it for a reason or reasons.

We know things, Mr Joy,
that you could never possibly know.

It... it has my name on it.

How could you possibly know that
there are two Mr Joys in this room?

You thought you knew it all
and now you find you don't.

So be a love and get back into your bed.

But I'm Harry Joy.

No, you are Mr Joy.

Mr Harry Joy.

You are not Mr Harry Joy.

I should know my own name.

If you knew your own name
then you would not be here.

I am here because
I not only know my own name

but the names of all my patients.

You see, Mr Joy, this is my specialty.

It is my business.

Now, why don't you get out
of Mr Harry Joy's bed

before he comes back?

You don't want to start off
in his bad books too.

Now, come on.

Good. Come on.

There.

There we are.

Good.

Alex!

The name is Harry Joy.

Come on. Don't be silly.

Alex?
Do you want to talk to Mrs Dalton?

Alex, I am sorry. I shouldn't
have left you alone at the hotel.

Just don't go around saying
you're Harry Joy

or you'll get into a lot of trouble.

No. Come on, Alex.

You know when I first came here
I didn't want to be Harry Joy?

Then one day I just stopped fighting
and I realised the truth -

that I'd always hated being Alex Duval.

My name was making me miserable.

I had the wrong name.

But, Alex, they called you Harry Joy
because they thought you were me.

They got you by mistake.

You can't be destructive
with me anymore.

Alex... Alex...

They put you in here to test me.

That Alice Dalton's a clever woman.

Did they tell you it was a test?

Of course not! It wouldn't be a test
if they told me.

Alex...
Please call me Harry.

Alex... Alright. Harry...

Harry, you don't have to be
in hospital. It's not you they want.

You don't want to knuckle down
under Harry Joy, do you?

The irony.

You know, I'm not surprised
to see you end up here, Harry.

Fuck it.
What?

I called you Harry.
Don't worry about it.

I've got to worry about it.

I like being Harry Joy.

I'm a successful advertising man

and I don't worry about ethics
or morality or justice.

I'm crazy but happy.

I told them the story about the butterfly.

And the New York stories.

Are they going to torture me?

Harry.

No. They need your subsidy.

You can have peace here.

No-one's gonna hurt you.

Fuck it.

I called you Harry again.

Here's to me.

You don't love me anymore, do you?

I just don't feel like it.

Honey... it's not my fault
if Austrol won't buy your ads.

I didn't say it was.

Just relax.

How in the God can I relax

when I write a world-class campaign

and those provincial dumb-bums
won't buy it?

What do they know about petrol?

It's in my damn blood.

I grew up with it.
I ate and breathed the filthy muck.

You want Harry back, don't you?

You think Harry can sell your ads.

Joel, I never pretended I was nice.

This is the story of the vision splendid.

It had been dry six weeks

and the air was full of a red dust
that covered everything.

Nobody thought that
it would ever rain again.

And then, one afternoon,

we saw the storm clouds
roll in from the south

and we all prayed for rain.

I hate that bastard Harry Joy.

Look at him - he doesn't
give a fuck about anybody.

Stole my stories.

Well, that's what you do here, mate.

It's their specialty.

You don't get breakfast
the morning that they come.

That's how you know, you see?

And then they take you to the shock table

...and they put these two bits
of tin, two bits of metal

on your head like this here.

It's the blackness that you can't imagine.

Blackness.

Cold, black ink.

Like death.

They steal your memories.

They take away the faces,

all your pictures, all your stories.

It was your mother!

She's a lonely woman.

And you're a good-looking fella.

You really think she'll let me out?

A lonely woman?

A good-looking fella.

A Californian poppy.

Never fails.

Sit down, Mr Duval.

Mr Joy.

No, Mr Duval.

Alice...

Mrs Dalton to you.

And if you've come to butter me up,
forget it.

For God's sake, stop it.
You look like a madman.

Let us address this problem sensibly
on a business basis.

You, Mr Duval,
are a source of revenue to me.

If you wish to depart,
I will have to replace the revenue.

So that's it. Money.

At the end of the day, what else is there?

May I use your phone?

Don't you think, Mr Duval,

that you should find out first
just how much money you will require?

Yeah?

What? Harry!

Yeah. Yes, of course. How much?

Harry, I'm not going to ring
a damn escort agency for you.

Yeah, alright.

Alright.

Mmm.

Yes, alright!
Yes, it's a deal.

He's got a floozy.

Joel!

I'm not asking very much.

You've already got my shirt
and my shoes.

They don't fit.

All... I... want

is for you to shave off your moustache.

Please!

Alex, I want you to be very still
or else you might get cut.

Stop trying
to make me feel guilty.

I'm not trying
to make you feel guilty.

And not that, either.

Not what?

Not that nasty shit in your voice.

I don't know where you learned it but
I won't pay money unless you stop it.

Okay. Okay.

Where's Honey Barbara?

Honey what?

Zelda.

She's in the car, yearning.

She thinks she's gonna save your soul.

She's under the illusion you're gonna
run away to the bush with her.

I am.

No, you're not.
I phoned her after I phoned you.

We made a deal, Harry.

You get my share of the agency
for buying me out of here.

That's right! I'm gonna do
what I should have done 15 years ago.

I'm gonna be the best damn
copywriter in the world.

And don't you roll your eyes, because
you're gonna sell my ads for me.

No.

That's the deal.

That's not what you said on the phone.

That's the deal.

Fuck you, Bettina!

Do you want me to leave?

Betty... Betty... what's got into you?

It was always in me from the start.

I was never a sweet little wifey.

You're pissed off because of Honey.

No, I'm not.

It's a bloody silly name.

She's a beekeeper.

Come on, Harry.

Look, wait till you see my ads.

We'll kill 'em. We'll clean up.

I promised Honey Barbara.

She can come and live with us.

Come on, Harry.

You can talk her round.

You can talk anyone around.

Shit. What have you been eating?

You look revolting.

Christ, I missed you.

I shanghaied my husband, Barbara.

I had to buy him back
so he can work with me.

What work?
Doing ads.

Advertisements.

Sorry, you've lost me.

I did a deal with His Highness.

I do the ads, he sells 'em.

It was the only way
we could get the money.

You said you were gonna
come home with me. I believed you!

I can't.

Look, I kidnapped him but I don't
want him for anything but work.

So you're gonna stay
in the city, are you?

Can't you read a bloody map?

Well, fuck you!

Turn around, go back.
Will you look at my ads?

Yes, yes! Now, turn around and go back.

Well?

Are they great ads or are they great ads?

You did all this?

Copywriting, art direction, the lot.

Congratulations.

They've been rejected.
We can't sell them.

'W e'
Joel and me.

You could make a lot of money
doing ads like this.

At the end of the day, what else is there?

Can you sell them?

Bettina, it'll be a piece of cake.

Joel! What happened?

Harry!

Joel.
You're looking good, Harry.

You too.

For Christ's sakes, what the hell
has happened to you?

Nothing. Nothing.

What happened, Snookie?

Well, I was just leaving the office,

and this little kid came running out
of that shop on the corner.

And this woman - his mother -

had one of those plastic buckets full of...

Well, I thought it was full of water.

And she just threw it...

...all over the little kid.

Ask me why.
Why?

Don't know why -
that's the terrible thing!

And then his grandfather
starts yelling out in Greek.

I think he must have been
saying it was gasoline.

He dashed over to pick up the kid,
but, you see,

he'd forgotten that he had...

No.

Yeah.

A cigarette in his mouth.

They both went up.

Burst into flames. Pow!

Shit.

But it's alright.

It's alright.

Because I threw myself on top of them

and I put out the flames.

That's bullshit, Joel.

Joel.

Alright, it's bullshit. You didn't
have to say it was bullshit.

I knew it was bullshit, but Harry didn't.

You've burnt yourself.
Who cares?

Dad! Dad!

Luce, get out of here. I can't
stand that damn petrol smell.

Dad, this is Ken McLaren.
This is my father, Harry.

Mr Joy.
Out! Out!

Here, use this for rags.
No, give it to me. Get out!

Alright!

I love you.

Hi. I'm Honey Barbara.

Friend of your father's.

Do you want some breakfast?

Yeah.

What's this?

I have Corn Flakes.

I'll make some good bread
for you later.

That's all there is at the moment.

Eat it!

It'll make your shit flow.

I don't want to talk about shit.

Particularly not to a woman.

Hi!

I'm Lucy. This is Ken.

Honey Barbara.

David thinks you're crazy.

He says you talk about food like
it's shit and shit like it's food.

He reckons you can't
tell the difference.

He's crazy.

Everyone's crazy around here.

I'll make some herbal tea.

You got herbal tea, have you?

Been there, done that.

Bettina's crazy because
she wants to be in America.

Joel's crazy 'cause he'd
do anything for attention.

David's crazy 'cause he wants
to work for the Mafia.

And Harry must be crazy 'cause
he let the others lock him up.

And why are you crazy?

We're crazy 'cause
we like everything.

Yeah. We like you chucking
all this stuff out.

We like David being
pissed off with you.

We like everything.

Herbal tea, coca-cola, speed.

There isn't anything we disapprove of.

Anyway, when the world's over,

no-one's gonna appreciate
how beautiful it all was.

I mean, the sunsets
wouldn't look so good

if the air wasn't full of shit.

Refracts the light, makes better sunsets.

Sounds pretty negative to me.
Shouldn't you be trying to change it?

Been there, done that.

What with - herbal tea?

You see, we're the first people
to come to the end of time.

How do you sleep at night?

We fuck until we can't
do it anymore.

Well, why are you crazy?

Why do you treat food like shit?

Yeah, what do you call
good food?

What - no white flour, no white sugar, no
meat, that kind of thing?

Sounds pretty boring to me.

Well, come back
at dinnertime, smart-arse,

and we'll see how bored you are.

I'll be there.

I'm gonna sell you fellas
something you've already rejected.

And to do this very difficult thing...

...I am going to tell you a story about
a bloke with only $10 in his wallet

and a petrol gauge showing empty.

As he drives along Crystal Parade,
it's peak hour.

And there he sees a service station
on the left - nice and easy.

And on the right-hand side, one of yours.

Now...

To Harry Joy.
The only true salesman in the world.

Will we wait for Joel?

This is very good.

I used to live with a lady
who made soup like this.

But this is better soup.
And hers was very good.

What's this?
De-mineralised water.

You'll still get cancer like the rest of us.

I can smell petrol.

I washed.

I washed too.

We gave you an education

so you wouldn't get involved
with stinking petrol.

I don't believe
this cancer rubbish.

But I'm prepared to discuss it.

I really like your food. It's not boring.

Eat it up, David.

It'll make your shit flow.
You watch your mouth, young lady.

You fool!
Shit!

You bloody fool!

Don't worry, he's just trying
to get her to show affection.

They won't be back. I saw to that.

It's your fault! You're such a bloody star.

Flouncing around the office.

You never think how he feels.
He wants to feel important.

You never help him to feel anything!

Well, are you all just gonna sit there?

Or is one of you human enough
to help me get him to hospital?

- I'm fine, really!
- Shut up!

We've gotta watch him.
You know, I told you about him?

I'll drive, guys, if you like.

Look, it wasn't good or bad.

It was just a way of resolving it.

All you have to do
is be more arrogant.

Honey Barbara knew
what was happening with Harry Joy.

A devil had him.

Don't you look so superior.

You drink my wine. You drive my Jag.

I'd rather not.

If you don't want it, don't drink it!

Do you know how much you cost me?

A lot of money.

A bloody fortune!
So don't you say you don't love me.

You were a good man, Harry.

I really loved you.

Would've done anything for you.

You're poisoned
with all this shit you're doing.

Yeah, well, somebody
has to make the money.

I'm doing it to make us safe.

So no-one will hurt us.

Bullshit.

You know it's bullshit, you evil fucker!

Don't you ever dare come running to me!

This is something
we normally only find

in people who have been exposed
to petrol fumes

over a very long period.

Motor mechanics,
service station attendants.

What is it?

We'll get another opinion, of course.

Something nasty?

It is malignant, yes.

How long have I got? A week? A month?

It's not quite that bad.

You could have a year.

I need more than a year...

Mrs Joy...
You're ridiculous.

I need three years
to make it in New York.

Petrol gives you cancer.

That stupid hippy was right.

I'm going to give you a shot of this.

What is it?
Valium.

Forget it.
It'll make you feel better.

Nothing can make you feel better
when you've been made a fool of.

Morning, gentlemen.

Good morning.

First, thanks for coming in
at such short notice.

Second, I must apologise for Harry.

He won't be here today.
So... you're stuck with me.

Alright, we have the campaign.

Now, we look at the problem
of point of sale.

The suspense is killing me.

This, gentlemen... is petrol.

Your petrol.

From your service stations.

And that was
the end of Bettina.

And, in another way completely,
it was also the end of Harry Joy.

Well, the old Harry Joy.

It was the end of him.

I arrived in our valley
the year Clive dropped a match

on the Hare Krishna lantana patch.

Well, it burnt the lantana alright...

...but he also burnt out
500 acres of good timber.

I had a couple of things on my mind.

The police...

The police had got very excited
about Bettina.

They got a little too excited for my taste.

I wanted somewhere calmer. And safer.

I was also looking for Honey Barbara.

But of the two things,

safety was definitely
uppermost on my mind.

It was also the time Paul Bees -
Honey Barbara's father-

was living down in the rainforest.

Crystal had kicked him
out of the house on the ridge

and taken a lover.

G'day.

G'day.

He was a bit lonely down there,

with only the leeches
and the mozzies for company.

I was lucky.

I was lucky because he was a kind man.

And not only that, he was a curious man.

He loved stories.

The king felt very sorry,

and at night he couldn't sleep.

He lay awake, thinking of
the beggars, like all kings.

But it never occurred to him
to give away his wealth.

Instead, he decided he would punish...

...he would punish himself for being rich.

So he disguised himself as a beggar...

...and he went amongst the people.

I liked the rainforest.

It seemed safer.

Finally I had to do my share of the work.

I chose to plant trees
rather than work up at the mill.

I was a bit mad, of course.

At that stage, all I could think about

was that the more trees I planted,
the safer I'd be.

You can't fool around with trees
without them affecting you.

You can't plant a thing and care for it

and watch it grow without it altering you.

I got hard hands and I was happy enough.

But there was one thing that ate at me.

Honey Barbara...

That stubborn woman
would not have a bar of me.

What does
he know about trees, anyway?

You don't know him like I do.

You can't trust him.
He doesn't believe in anything.

All I was saying is he knows good stories.

You call yourself an anarchist!

You people would follow anyone.

You're all so bloody bored with each other

that when someone new comes along,
you practically rape them.

Anyway, they're not his stories.
He stole them.

Now, Honey Barbara
was a stubborn woman.

She's always been a stubborn woman.

But we all know how she is about honey.

Honey is her weakness.

And her biggest weakness was in April,

when there were
no decent honey trees in blossom.

In April, she brought the bees
back to her place

where they could forage
on the groundsel bush

to stop them starving.

But they didn't produce any decent honey.

Go away!

I know you're there!

You're bloody mad!

Yes... she was right.

Only a crazy man would write a love letter

that takes eight years to arrive.

Eight years.
I won't say they passed quickly.

While those honey trees were growing,
I built two houses.

I lost the first one
in Cyclone Alfie.

But finally the time came.

It was April, and there was Honey Barbara

expecting the same old April rubbish
from her hives.

Except it wasn't rubbish at all.

Her bees had found my love letter...

...and delivered it as planned.

I'm not gonna waste my whole life...

I'm not gonna waste my whole life
hating you.

And that is the story of the love letter

that took eight years to flower.

And how I finally got
your stubborn mother

to say she loved me after all.

And now there's
only one more story to tell.

Nothing happens in this story.

Nothing but a death.

In a moment, the branch of a tree
will fall on him.

A yellow box he once planted
as a love letter to our mother.

His nostrils were filled

with the smell of things
growing and dying.

A sweet, earthy smell.

Like the valleys of rainforests.

He did not wish to return to his body,

and instead he spread himself
thinner and thinner.

And when he'd made himself
as thin as a gas, he sighed.

And the trees, those tough-barked giants

exchanging one gas for another,

pumping water, making food,

were not too busy to take this sigh
back through their leaves.

He was Harry Joy.

He was our father.

He told stories and he planted trees.