Have you noticed how young people
always aim, shamelessly, for despair?
- Will you invite me to lunch? - With great pleasure.
Silence.
Mystery with the beautiful people.
But a failure in ugly ones.
I've always been ugly, but you…
Are you aware
of the disruption your beauty causes?
I’m starting to suspect something.
What are you thinking about?
What happened to all the beautiful plans we made
as drunk in the night?
All the promises of friendship,
all the declarations of eternal love
vanish
with sleep.
They reappear the next day.
Blurred.
Distant.
Impossible.
In the uncertain lucidity
of the morning hangover,
life is…
simply unbearable.
Can I take a shower at your place?
Huh? Swim!
"How many people have slept here?
What did lovers say to each other here in this bed?
They always say the same things.
Luckily,
there are writers
who vary the monotony of their words.
I can smell the scent
of everyone who has ever slept here.
And you?"
And you?
Do you smell it?
- Smell what? - The smell of dead loves.
May I fall in love with you?
I could love you too,
if only I could prove to myself that I don't like men.
You can have it all,
without even asking.
Everyone would be happy for you.
You don't believe me.
Just try it.
Beauty is like war.
It opens doors.
Good evening.
You must forgive me for this morning.
I was so sad I didn't introduce myself.
It's true. My name is Parthenope.
John Cheever.
I've read all your stories.
Well, life is full of misfortunes.
- What are you doing? - All the usual.
Taking a long, sad walks.
May I join you?
- No. - Why not?
Because I don't want to steal one minute of your youth from you.