Fragments of Love (Fragmentos de amor)

Hey.

Hi.

What's this?

I want to ask you a favor. . . .

I want to make a mold of your face.

A mask?

I've got everything ready.

Take off your shirt...

. . . and lie down there.

I got this technique from a poète maudit. . .

A guy who wound up blowing his brains out. . .

Blake, I think, or Silva. . .

One of those guys. . .

They made a death mask of this poet.

Don't move.

This technique was invented for corpses, and corpses don't move.

Hello.

Hello. . . Hello, Susana, it's me.

Hello, are you all right? It's midnight.

I know, but I called yesterday and today and you never pick up.

Have you listened to my messages?

No. No - I had to do two shifts at the pool and I'm exhausted.

Are you alone?

Of course I'm alone. . . . It's noise from the street.

Hello. Hello. Isaías?

Hello, Susana, I can't seem to reach you. I'll call back tonight, okay?

Things are going very well here, faster than I thought.

Miss, are we going to swim on our backs?

Have you been practicing?

Yes.

Great!

Laura?

Here!

Hi.

Hi.

Ready to swim?

Yessss!

Goggles everybody! Ready! And IN!

" . . . which does not just darken this Wednesday morning, but is very

disturbing, anxiety-producing for us all, and is a sign of this very delicate

situation of public order our nation is going through.

"Colonel González, welcome, good morning. Tell us, how long are we going to

be under these threats? What information do you have that you can share with us?"

Good morning, don Rodrigo. Come in.

Good morning, Rodrigo. I'm Susana.

Isaías has told me so much about you.

Well, nice to meet you.

go on, go on, please.

No, no, I'm done here. I've finished.

You met Rodrigo? He's not just a piano tuner, he's a composer, too. . .

How are you?

I don't compose anymore, or play. I just tune.

You can't imagine Rodrigo's studio. It's beautiful.

Really?

Play something for us, please.

No, no, Isaías should be the one to try it out.

No, no way.

Well, let's leave it for another day, then, I'm going to be late.

I'm going with you.

I didn't hear you come in.

The music is loud.

That's Borrero, right?

Yes, it's beautiful, you were right

He's got talent, but he's not himself.

Don't move, I'll be back.

Is something wrong?

It's a curse. It always happens to me the first time.

It's not that terrible.

"When Will It End?"

The whole world is turning in that direction.

Now the money is coming from China, Russia, Singapore. . .

Which is why I'm waiting for confirmation from Shanghai. .

As soon as I hear, we'll be moving there.

I've been traveling a lot recently for this.

So with what happened, I felt. . . impotent.

I'm all right.

Thanks to Rodrigo.

Excuse me.

I owe you an explanation.

Not at all.

Yes, I really do.

Excuse me, the people at work call at all hours.

I've got to go.

Please, Rodrigo, stay, have another whiskey.

No, really, I've got to go.

Well, then. . .

Goodnight.

Calm down, calm down, calm down.

Move on, move on, move on. Next, come on. . .

No sir, calm down, calm down.

It's not police abuse, ma'am, calm down.

Check the car, check. . .

Hello, Rodrigo.

Let me know. . .

It's closed, I'm busy.

What's up?

How are you?

Good, good. . . busy.

Can we talk?

No, there's nothing to talk about.

Yes, there is.

Why don't you come to dinner tonight at my place.

At eight?

I'm a great cook.

Carmen!

Here in the kitchen, but I can't find a thing.

Sorry I kept you waiting so long, I thought you'd given up and left

No way!

You think you can get rid of me that easy?

My God, our first prize here in Colombia. . .

and you've got it back here in the kitchen.

So? Woody Allen doesn't even pick up his Oscars.

Yeah, but Woody Allen is still directing and writing.

Well. . .

So tell me.

How are you?

Good, good.

Really?

Yes, yes. I'm eating well, sleeping well. . .

. . . working. Everything's good.

And you're composing?

No.

Then you're not good, goddamn it.

I get it.

You just want me to be useful to you again.

That's part of it, yeah! No, it's that I worry. I love you, I've loved you since you were a kid.

And I think I have the right to ask. After all, I'm still your agent. . . Or have you fired me?

No, no, never. . .

All you have to do is, on your business cards, put "Agent: Piano Tuner."

It's not a bad idea. We'd both earn more money.

You know something? Yesterday a woman flirted with me.

Really? That's great! What did you do? Did you flirt back?

I don't know, I felt strange.

I'm not sure I've got any desire for a relationship.

Rodrigo, enough, you need to get past your damned mourning

forget Valeria, she's not in your life. . .

and get rid of that suffering-genius look on your face.

Good evening, sir, glad to see you. Who are you here to see?

Susana Mejía.

Who may I say is calling?

Rodrigo Borrero.

Miss Susana. . .

Mr. Roberto Borrero is here to see you.

Rodrigo.

Rodrigo Borrero.

Sorry, sir. Rodrigo Borrero.

Yes, of course, right away.

Go right up, Mr. Borrero.

I haven't thanked you for what happened the other day.

Don't worry, your fiancé did.

What happened. . . is not any big deal.

Isaías is like a child, he needs me.

Friends?

Yes, of course, friends.

I better go.

No. . . wait.

A few words from me will cure you.

Once I had a boyfriend with a much worse problem than yours.

Talking to me about another guy is not going to help.

THE EUNUCH

I'm not talking to you.

Your head is the problem.

I'm talking to this. . . down here.

So as I was saying,

this friend of mine,

I called him The Eunuch,

he was . . .

the most romantic man I've ever known.

A magician with words.

I wrote you a poem:

Body of woman, white thighs. . .

And me not saying anything, Rodrigo. . .

You resemble the world. . .

Just listening to him.

Me, who talk more than a soccer announcer.

I don't want to hear this.

But it was just words, lots of Platonic love, lots of passionate letters. . .

not even a word about sex. . .

and me imagining the worst, a mutilation, or something like that,

an accident when he was a boy. . .

like in Vargas Llosa's "The Cubs". . . have you read it?

After a long night. . .

of exquisite words. . .

I cornered him

...closed my trembling eyes, and I yanked his pants down,

and when I opened my eyes,

Nothing!

What do you mean, "nothing"?

Nothing was missing.

I mean his, instrument was normal. . .

His right testicle hung down a little farther than the left one, like most men.

He pulled his pants up, pulled his belt two notches tighter

than it needed to be.

I never saw him again.

He thought I was some kind of wild woman. . .

A few days later,

my disarmed Don Juan disappeared.

Some days. . .

I wake up with this you're touching flooded.

I walk, and something slippery. . . rubs between my legs.