It's December.
I'm waiting to leave for another country.
I'm on the shore of the Red Sea, in Djibouti.
This morning, I met a woman in the lobby of the hotel.
She came to see if she had any mail.
Like me, she has been traveling for a long time.
We were somewhat intimidated by each other.
Apparently, she was waiting for a letter from someone
who was supposed to meet her...
I also learned that she had some difficulties.
I offered to share my room with her.
It's a large room.
She agreed.
Now I'm waiting for her.
I gave her the bed near the window.
I'm happy that she's here.
I'm not alone anymore.
I look at her.
Deep down, I don't know her.
She makes herself comfortable in my room.
Is she here because of me?
or is it just a place
to stay while waiting for her letter?
I'll stop thinking about this.
It's nice here.
Will the hotel manager say anything about it?
It doesn't work anymore.
Good morning, new friend.
I haven't known a lot of women.
I traveled... worked...
I didn't have the time.
I've been longing to be with her
in the same room
for a while now.
At night,
I listen to her breathing.
Perhaps I want to be unhappy
And something tells me that with her, I will be.
I'm trying to come to terms with this
It's already begun.
The days go by.
We stay locked up in the hotel.
And it seems like we are the only people here at the hotel.
Sometimes I think that we have just barely met.
Sometimes I think that we've always known each other.
I think that I'm beginning to fall in love with her.
I try to imagine the moment when we will start to kiss.
The first kiss she'll give me
unless she never wants to.
I've never felt like this in a foreign city.
I've never lived like this.
It's nice.
There are times when we speak and times when we're quiet.
I'm learning to look after her.
I don't get tired of looking at her.
It's as if my eyes became a part of her...
an extension of her body.
The number of hotel rooms that I've slept in
is too many...
the hotel rooms in which I've slept alone.
The number of hotel rooms where a woman was in the same bed as me
is not a very high number.
I would like that, in this room,
there's only one bed.
I would like to sleep with her, without sleeping at all...
Kiss her everywhere.
Goodnight.
I'd like that we never leave this hotel.
that if we did, we'd both become crazy.
We'd scratch each other, bite each other,
kiss each other the whole time
that we'd have trouble breathing, that we'd sweat
that nothing else would exist
only her and me.
Hug each other very strongly
while suffocating.
We spend forever in this room.
It's muggy.
Often while I'm looking at her
I start to get hard.
She doesn't realize it.
They ended up finishing their soccer game downstairs.
It's time for the street sweepers.
Boys all love soccer.
I knew a boy who loved soccer so much that
even though he had no memory of it,
he remembered being born as a soccer player
even before his birth.
The soccer players who were around before he was born, he knew them all.
He could hardly remember anything else.
One time I was a ship helper on a boat.
Three times, that's what I was.
And even one time...
One summer, it was in the Mediterranean,
we saw a waterspout.
It's not a tornado, but a waterspout, it's
wind that comes from the land
and goes out to the sea, or the opposite, I can't remember.
In any case, for a moment it's on the land
and it sucks up the sea...
and it sucks up the sea, the boats, the fish
and then it drops everything further away.
And the captain told us to get back into the cabin, so we did...
and nothing at all happened.
The waterspout was too far away and we were scared for nothing.
This is the first time I'm so close to her.
From where I am I could touch her lips.
And I could approach her
and get even closer.
Even if I fail...
I think that meeting each other is more important
than that our relationship is successful.
She tells me stories and when she's finished
she tells me that she's never told that story to anyone.
She has suffered a little bit in her life...
You can see it in her eyes.
... they say it at exactly the same time...
and this habit he had of smoking at night in bed made holes in his sheets.
It's late now. I want to sleep.
That's making mud. My feet are dirty.
They're still playing soccer even during naptime.
You know the boy we met yesterday at the party?
I saw him again afterwards.
He told me all about his life.
He told me that he worked in a boat and traveled around the world.
I don't know if it's true... in my opinion...
He spoke half-truthfully, half-falsely.
He told me he was named Manuela
and Manuela is a girl's name.
Then, he called me Francesco...
and Francesco is a boy's name.
Perhaps she hates me...
She's staying her because it's convenient for her
It's surprising what is happening.
I think she hates me, it doesn't affect me.
She plays the "little girl" with me
I don't like the voice she's using.
On the other hand, I like her eyes, her look, and her mouth too.
And her profile when she tilts her head.
Even when I think she hates me, she still moves me.
We shouldn't stay much longer in Djibouti.
If the man she's waiting for shows up, everything's lost.
I need a lot of time with her.
Ok, I'm going to take a bath.
It's the first time that she's received a letter since we've been living together.
If it's a letter from her friend...
Perhaps she receives plenty of letters without anyone knowing.
Today, she took me to a friend of hers in the African Quarter.
This friend is the only part other than myself that I know of her life.
Her friend seems nice.
She's a prostitute.
As I look at both of them, I'm suddenly thinking of my Saigon girls.
One was named Marie.
She took me to the cinema across the street from my hotel "The Continental"
She was wild and sometimes sad.
I never kissed her on the mouth.
The other was named Kim and she couldn't speak French well.
She always mispronounced my real name.
She was a young prostitute.
She was tender with me, and laughed all the time.
I liked her a lot and I remember her way of pressing herself against me.
It's disturbing.
She hasn't said anything to me about the letter she received.
I certainly saw her receive the letter, she must have opened it in a corner.
I wonder if this letter announces the arrival of her friend.
I think not.
She's been closed up, rather sad, ever since.
Unless it's a coincidence.
But I don't think so.
Thus, she's not free.
She has a man in her life.
Unless in the letter, her friend says that it's finished.
I could go through her things, find the letter, and read it.
But I already like how things are going for now.
I have a strong desire, while she's pretending that nothing happened.
I'd like to lift up her dress, kiss her stomach, her thighs, and undress her.
When? At what moment? If it doesn't work, oh well.
Here you are.
Thank you.
After the movie, she didn't want to return home.
She dragged behind.
I didn't ask her any questions.
Though I was thinking of the letter.
I watched her drink her coffee.
When we got back to the room I was afraid of what she'd say.
She could have wanted to return to Paris.
I don't see myself going back to Paris.
I don't feel like it.
This isn't life.
It's not organized, this is what I like.
Finally I understand myself.
In Paris, I imagine...
I imagine things that...
In any case, I don't feel like returning.
She agreed. She just told me "yes".
She seems happy to leave.
We're going to take the train and leave in the morning.
I'd like to be the man of her life.
For this, we must leave.
No other man can have the time to arrive.
She's not waiting for anyone.
Tomorrow, she's leaving with me.
We're leaving the seashore.
We're going to arrive in another country.
We're the only foreign travelers.
The armed men protect the train.
There's a civil war not far away.
We know that this train was attacked a few days ago.
She is not afraid at all.
She saw soldiers, and she hasn't spoken to me about them.
She prefers to look at the countryside.
She looks and she looks...
She appears to be thinking a lot.
I wonder what she's thinking about.
I'd like her to be thinking about me.
She looks back to smile at me.
I need to dare to kiss her.
But to kiss the nape of her neck, softly without warning.
Perhaps she's waiting for me to do this.
I always thought that traveling was something to be done alone.
With her, I've changed my mind.
She's a good travel companion.
No one in the world knows we're here.
It's our second hotel.
Our second room.
I don't know if it's because of the scenery, the train, or her...
But I can't stop thinking about what will happen next during our voyage.
I'm not calm.
We still have further to go.
I have to convince her that we shouldn't stop.
I don't want to leave her, I want to stay with her.
I have to invent things to make her happy.
I don't know how, but the journey must continue.
I'll find a car, a truck, a boat, a plane...
We'll rent a Jeep...
We'll take the train again, and travel all over Africa.
I really want that the voyage never stops.
She'll be tired, she'll fall asleep next to me.
I'll be there when she wakes up.
I'll try to make her laugh, I'd like to make her laugh...
I think that if I can do this, she won't ever leave me.
I can't remember words anymore...
I remember other things...
light...
It was sunny that day.
She was beautiful.
I should have kept quiet.
I'm tired, I'd like to sleep.
What use is it to love someone?
It's only to be happy and unhappy.
Well, it leads to that.
I remember one of the first things I said in Djibouti in the hotel lobby.
It was, "I would really like to get to know you."
It was a stupid thing to say.
I corrected myself right away.
I said, "I need to get to know you."
This wasn't any better.
I don't think she was listening to me.
She didn't start listening to me until much later.
And now, it's me who doesn't listen to her anymore.
I wonder what use I am for her.
She doesn't have a lot of money, perhaps that's it? No that's not it.
Why did I just now tell her at the hotel:
"Don't play a joke on me, don't disappear on me."
I'm constantly afraid she'll leave.
We're heading North.
Her too, she doesn't want us to separate.
She may end up thinking, like me, that
we didn't just meet each other by chance.
At first, I thought she looked very young.
Perhaps she did it on purpose.
Her way of behaving...
of speaking to me...
for fun, or for defending herself.
She tried to act young, like a "little girl"
In a big city like Paris,
I wonder if we would be interested in each other.
Whereas here, we were available.
Or maybe it's me who wants to meet a girl, devoting myself to her...
Or maybe it's her. I don't know.
She needed someone, not to love her...
but someone who would look after her.
I tell myself we're living together.
I don't dare to say it to her.
There are bars everywhere and they're open all night
and inside, there are young girls drinking beer
and eating sausages, actually the sausages are quite good.
Also, everywhere are dance clubs.
Well, "everywhere" is a way of speaking because...
Berlin is like here: there's just one street.
For a while now, we have both had a lot of fun.
She tells me more and more things about her.
As for me, I'm not abandoning this fairy tale.
I should tell her about my childhood... my work...
Maybe she would be interested.
Or I could tell her about the women who I've known
she'd learn that I find her different
even if deep down, I'm not sure. I don't know if it would please her.
It would perhaps make her jealous or think it's out of place.
... took them to Berlin... and they made a museum around it.
There's also the Walls of Babylon
And if you want to buy a pack of cigarettes
you'll wait in line for half an hour, and the matches aren't in the same store.
That's how it used to be.
By nightfall, we always came to a village.
There were cafes lit up...
and kids who drank grenadine, played and seemed to enjoy themselves.
And me, I was always a bit jealous...
I always thought that I wouldn't get to the museum on time.
And for me that's always a drag
but only a little bit.
We stayed here for a few days while waiting for the boat.
I can't take it anymore.
What did we just do here?
It's a complete mistake.
I've surely gone backwards.
I think I've cracked because of desire.
The heat is annoying.
She's speaking to me less than before.
We should have gone somewhere else, and never stopped here.
If I ask her to make love right now, it will destroy everything.
And I want to sleep with her. It's stronger than me, stronger than anything.
I was hoping things would be better on this boat.
The opposite happened.
She avoids me.
She doesn't speak to me.
She's upset.
The boat moves forward.
We're on an island.
Sir!
Time to eat.
Sir!
What's this? Is it for me?
There's something I don't understand.
You've traveled around the world, you've done a lot of things in your life
and you're so blind with people, clueless with what's going on,
and you're awkward with me.
You're a baby.
In any case, you're an idiot.
You're a pain in the neck.
You're a moron.
You're less than nothing.
One cannot love and travel at the same time.
That's how it is.
She's here.
She making me suffer.
She keeps her head down.
I try to smile.
We're in a house.
Some Europeans who were leaving lent it to us for a few days.
It's better than the hotel.
I'm as lazy as one can be.
Come closer.
Sit here.
I slept with her. I became her lover.
I kissed her everywhere. Her shoulders, her breasts, her knees...
I kissed her genitals, she caressed mine.
We made love, and it was not very good.
I came too quickly, the orgasm wasn't that great
and she didn't come at all.
I wanted to make her come with my tongue, but it annoyed her.
It wasn't by chance that it didn't work out...
and it was less pleasurable than if I had masturbated.
I had the impression that she accepted to sleep with me out of pity.
I liked her genitals, it drove me crazy.
I lost track as to whether it was the inside of my mouth or of her body.
I absolutely want to sleep with her again.
I don't want to stay in this state of failure.
She's walking in the sand...
She's leaving like a sleepwalker.
What does she think of how everything went?
I'm making fossil markings.
I wonder what's happening in Paris.
You're not tired?
I haven't heard any news for a long time.
It must be cold there.
It's winter.
I like to know that today I'm in Africa.
What pleases me are the sensations of being here.
The sensations from the desert and from her.
Here I want to devote myself to her
without being absent-minded.
She can't disappear either, this is important.
I wanted to come with her into the desert.
I wanted to bring her here.
I thought of it ever since I saw her for the first time in Djibouti.
I knew that one day we would be in the desert.
I love the desert.
I'm a thousand times more in love with the desert than I am with her.
I should learn to be happy.
I have everything here with me
and I'm watching her sleep
and I'm unsatisfied.
I'm disappointed.
It seems that this desert isn't enough for me.
Now I would like to take her to another desert
that would be even more dull... emptier...
so that I could be more alone together with her...
as alone as possible.
You want to leave?
We must leave again.
Why are you always saying we have to leave?
It's ready.
We're probably not far from a city.
The sand will harden during the night.
Since we've arrived in Alexandria, she's changed.
I want to take care of some work things.
I have to tell the people in Paris where I am.
I'm going out and I'm not sure when I'm coming back.
I'm going to have to make up a story...
I couldn't just tell them that I left everything unfinished because of a girl.
I found out that the telephone doesn't work. That suits me just fine.
I'm going to send them a telegram.
It's easier.
I'll get some money while I'm out.
She left.
She's disappeared.
Without her, I don't feel well.
She's no longer there.
No longer her, her eyes, her energy, nor her mystery.
It's as if there was no more light.
I'm waiting.
I'm not waiting for anything.
I'm waiting for the woman I love.
Without her, I'm bored.
I don't walk around like I used to.
I tell myself that I could have acted differently.
Perhaps she's in the room.
She left me a message.
She's waiting for me.
I'm returning to the hotel.
I spent all day alone...
which means that she too spent her day alone.
But "alone" for her...
that means specifically "without me".
She leaves. She returns any time she wants.
That means she does what she wants.
She's making a fool of me.
Ever since the day we made love...
ever since that day...
it's worse than before.
I think that she never really wanted me.
Yet, I can't blame her. She didn't lie to me.
Stop looking at me like that.
You're still sitting there as though you were looking at me for the first time.
It's torture to sleep in the same room.
Stop trying, you're going to make me angry.
You're the one who will be unhappy afterwards, not me.
I don't want to travel with you anymore.
I don't want anything to do with you anymore. You ruin everything.
I'm not going back to Paris with you.
I disappointed her.
I crossed Africa to sleep with her.
I only thought about my desire for her.
I would have liked to make her incapable of living without me.
I didn't know how to love her.
I should have run away from her.
She would have come to look for me.
But I'm speaking nonsense.
This voyage made my head spin.
I need to realize that I'm happy...
even if I try to believe that everything has gone bad.
I'm happy.
There is happiness in my life.
She's the one who offers it to me.
Who could be the man who I saw her leave here with?
I don't know where to go anymore.
She forces me to go to this dreary place.
The only place where I'm sure that I won't run into her.
I don't want anyone to take care of me...
or for anyone to look at me.
I want to sleep with her again before leaving Africa.
She knows I can't take it anymore...
and she said that all I have to do is masturbate.
She sat herself down on a sofa.
She avoided looking at my eyes.
She looked at my genitals the whole time...
and she waited for it to be over with.
She looked at me in a provocative way...
but I closed my eyes.
It was uncomfortable for both of us.
She wasn't aroused in the same way as me.
But she was aroused.
There are words we avoid saying but that we must welcome.
Words that I like.
Pain.
Pain is a word that I love.
I hate my pain.
It's there, I don't have a choice.
Must one choose between pain and love?
Perhaps it's the same thing.
Let's hope not.
Hello.
Can I borrow the truck?
Where's the key?
Where did you park it?
Excuse me.
- Shall we go? - Yes.
You're not coming to the beach?
We must end this voyage together.
Just as we started it.
I like this city.
I'll come back one day.
What time does the boat leave tomorrow?
Were you able to get a room on the boat?
The little bit that remains should save us.
I'd like to tell her that I'm no longer the same person.
She changed me.
I know that memories of this voyage will come back to me
so that I can start again with another woman.
I can no longer travel like before.
Subtitles by silvercloud@KG