Nymphomaniac: Vol. I

Hello?

You've had an accident.

You need an ambulance.

I'll call for one. I'll be right back.

- Lie still here. - No.

No.

No what?

I don't need an ambulance.

I can clearly see you do.

I'll call for one.

In that case, I'll be up and gone

before you have time to come back.

That will hurt.

That's possible. But it doesn't matter to me.

I assume you don't want me to call the police either.

Yes, that's exactly right.

Is there anything you want?

I'd like a cup of tea with some milk.

Well...

You have to come with me.

I don't serve tea in the street.

Can you walk?

Yeah.

I've even bought a cake.

Here's a pajama.

Thank you.

I've made up the bed for you.

With clean sheets.

- Sorry. - That's okay.

There.

- I'll wash your clothes. - Not my coat.

It smells rather badly.

It's my coat.

The smell won't come off anyway.

It's your coat.

- Do you take sugar? - No, thank you.

There you go.

Thank you.

So what happened?

Were you robbed?

It's my own fault.

I'm just a bad human being.

I've never met a bad human being.

Well, you have now.

Do you want to talk about it?

You wouldn't understand.

Well, try me.

But I wouldn't know where to start.

Why is that ridiculous fishhook hanging there?

That's a fly.

I caught a fish with it once, a rather big one.

Strangely enough.

Fly fishing is about tying feathers

and other things to a hook

so it resembles something the fish likes to eat.

And then because the fly is very light,

you have to have a line that is heavy.

It creates the velocity when you cast.

- You fish a lot? - Well, some.

But I don't catch much.

The locals catch a lot more.

When I was young, I... I had a book I...

I worshipped.

It was an old book by Izaak Walton

called "The Complete Angler."

It was like a romantic nature bible to me.

Maybe I know where to start.

But if you're to understand, I'll...

I'll have to tell you the whole story.

And it'll be long.

Long is good.

And moral, I'm afraid.

To begin with the bait,

I discovered my cunt as a two-year-old.

"Cunt" is a very strong word.

Let's call it "Pandora's Box" then.

Um... No, no, no. "Cunt" is better.

So, I was a nymphomaniac.

Wait a moment, no. Nobody can be a nymphomaniac

when they're only two years old.

I don't think even the strictest God

would see anything else than a child's normal behavior.

What about fetuses? It's common knowledge

that fetuses often touch their genital organs.

Can a fetus somehow be sinful?

Why not?

Not according to any religion I know,

unless it's an original sin.

Ancestral.

Or perhaps according to a religion that doesn't exist yet.

According to a god that hasn't yet manifested himself.

But then you can imagine anything.

At an early age, I was mechanically inclined.

Kinetic energy, for example, has always fascinated me.

And my friend, let's call her "B,"

always came up with the ideas.

Playing frogs was one of B's classics.

Joe, are you all right?

Just a moment.

Are you done?

For Christ's sakes, leave them alone.

I loved my father very much.

He was a doctor.

My mother's name was Katherine.

My father called her Kay.

I suppose she was what you'd call "a cold bitch."

She always had her back turned when she played solitaire.

I hated solitaire.

When we had P.E., I'd climb up into the ropes

and hang there for ages with the rope between my legs.

"The Sensation" we called it.

I remember very distinctly this word, "sensation."

Perhaps the only difference between me and other people

was that I've always demanded more from the sunset.

More spectacular colors when the sun hit the horizon.

That's perhaps my only sin.

Why are you insisting that children are sinful?

Not children.

Me.

I don't see sin anywhere.

But then I'm not religious.

Well, that's because you don't know the rest of the story.

And by the way, I'm not religious either.

Why would you take the most unsympathetic aspect

of religion such as the concept of sin...

and let it survive beyond religion?

I don't understand this self-hatred.

Well, that's what I said.

- You wouldn't understand. - No, I'm...

I'm sorry, I'll shut up.

Please continue.

Nervus... pudendus.

Nervus dorsalis clitoridis.

When the ash tree was created,

it made all the other trees in the forest jealous.

It was the most beautiful tree.

You couldn't say anything bad about it.

It was the World Tree in Norse mythology.

Remember, Odin...

He hung from the ash tree, Yggdrasil, for nine days

in order to gain insight.

The ash tree had the strongest wood.

Then in the winter...

When the ash tree lost all of its leaves...

all the trees noticed its black buds,

and started laughing.

"Oh, look.

The ash tree has had its fingers in the ashes."

See?

You can always tell the ash tree in winter

by the black buds.

Now...

Now this is a lime tree leaf.

- Remember? - I forgot about the lime tree.

I've told you 100 times.

My dad loved telling me about the trees,

and their leaves, and considered it

part of a good education.

He especially loved the childish educational stories he told

to help me remember what I had learned.

I knew how much he loved telling those stories.

Sometimes I pretended I'd forgotten them.

Originally, the lime tree's leaves were round.

A fox had her den beneath its roots

where she had four cubs.

One day, she went out looking for food for them.

There was a hunt in the forest. She was shot.

Wounded, she crawled back to the den

where she and the four cubs died.

This made the lime tree so sad.

And from then on,

the lime tree decided to have...

heart-shaped leaves.

Oh, yes, that's right. Heart-shaped.

Am I boring you?

No, no. I'm just looking forward

to how you'll get fishing weaved into your tale.

You could start with the fly on the wall there.

It's called a nymph.

It will tie in elegantly with your discussion

about nymphomania. A nymph is an early stage

in the life of an insect.

As a quite young nymph,

it was imperative for me to get rid of my virginity.

Hopla.

I kind of knew this boy, J,

who had a moped.

So in my eyes he was rather sophisticated.

I was 15,

and perhaps my girlish, romantic expectations

were a bit high.

But he had good, strong hands.

I liked his hands.

Hello?

- Hi. - Hi.

If I asked you to take my virginity would that be a problem?

No, I don't see a problem.

So, um...

Where shall I go?

It's the fucking carburetor.