José Luis Gómez credited as playing...
Luis
- Luis: Little by little, little by little - move your waist. And little by little, start talking with an imaginary rival, little by little, very gently. Let's see if we can combine the sounds into unintelligible conversation coming from your waist. That's it, that's it. Very gently, very gently. Let's see what happens.
- Luis: For the first time in my life, I had the horrible feeling that I'd lived my life in vain. As if - as if I'd just barely scratched the surface of things, without really realizing why and to what end I had done everything. I had left everything unfinished.
- Luis: I couldn't sleep and since I was unable to sleep, I started thinking about the most relevant moments of my life, those that, for one reason or another, have marked you for life. I thought about the women that I'd slept with. I tried to remember their faces. Their bodies. And I felt a chill. The chill of doom.
- Luis: Our imagination plays a reconstructive role. Because what you retain from your past are little snippets. And the more accurate and arduous our imagination's work is when reconstructing those snippets, the more real emotional value it will have.
- Luis: You haven't told us about your deeper feelings, which is what we're interested in here. The point of this exercise is to reconstruct a moment of your past through a profound and meticulous description of objects, aromas, colors, feelings, people. Do you understand? You might strike gold beneath what seems to be a meaningless detail. And you have to find it. We're not making a critical and rational analysis of one's behavior at a certain moment in time. No. Critical and rational behavior simply encapsulates, boxes in and categorizes the ashes of a fire that has already burned. We don't have to hide or bury anything. We have to rekindle that fire. Make it burn again.
- Luis: I don't want anyone to see me like this. If I die, I want to die alone, goddamn it. Like a fucking dog. Oh, my God! My God.
- Luis: I read you the poem. The poem went something like - what was it? "All those who long for life, Ask themselves, what is life? Life is a suffering, a sorrow, A torment that encourages us to meditate."
- Luis: What I remember most is the sun. The heat of summer. The dry earth from lack of water. And the light. A very, very intense light. A light that flooded everything. It's funny, the painter that's gotten the closest to that almost tangible feeling of luminosity is Van Gogh.
- Emilia: You and I are going to start from scratch. We're going to tell each other everything. All right?
- Luis: Absolutely everything? No dirty secrets?
- Emilia: This is not a joke. Seriously, we're going to start with a blank slate, being honest. All right?
- Luis: All right. But let's start tomorrow, okay?
- Emilia: I was having such a weird dream.
- Luis: About what?
- Emilia: I was blindfolded. And when I took my blindfold off, I realized I had lost my memory. And then when I went out to the street, I realized I had lost my memory. I couldn't remember anything. Or who I was. Or where I lived. Who my friends were or my relatives.