Metal and Melancholy (1994) - full transcript

The Uruguayans are leading 1-0.

Penalty. Header by
the keeper.

A free kick for Peru.

Just like a stamp.

The taxi-driver who
took me to the hotel...

said your car was
almost finished.

My car is almost finished.
But I'm not afraid they'll steal it.

This car can't be stolen.

Look...

If the thief opens the door...

it falls out.



He's startled and runs off.

Or he might get in the car.

You have to connect these
three wires to start it.

I hid them.

What kind of wires?
- A green, a red and a blue one.

What about the other wires?
- They're fake.

The wires confuse them.
- Yes.

They don't know which wires
to connect.

The ignition is also fake.
It doesn't work.

Anyway...

the trunk is empty.
There's nothing to steal.

The number plate is almost
falling off.

Yes.

Anyway, who would steal a car
full of holes?



It must be cold in the winter.
- I stuff a cloth in.

What were you doing?
Was it a breakdown?

I topped up the water.

Every thirty blocks...

I have to add water.
The radiator is bust.

If they steal it, they won't get
further than 30 blocks.

That's the advantage of
this car.

What job do you do?
- Medical publicity.

I wear a tie and carry
a briefcase at work.

METAL AND MELANCHOLY

I work in the international
trade division.

But the economic situation
means...

I have to work as a
taxi-driver now.

How long have you done that?
- About six months.

The crisis got worse and
my family had to eat.

Most people with cars work as
taxi-drivers in their spare time.

Do you enjoy it?
- No. Not at all.

It's not for me.

I wanted to get on and study.

I never thought
I would do this.

I like driving.

But I don't like
playing taxi-driver.

Why is the gear-lever taped?

The situation in Peru is so bad
that many people...

can't keep their hands
to themselves.

Thieves.
- Yes. Thieves.

You have to take measures
to stop them.

One car was stolen from me
and never found.

Why does tape round the gears
stop the thieves?

I remove it at night and
take it home with me.

Will you stop and show me?

If I stop here,
bullets will fly.

Why? What's here?

Secret police headquarters...
Stopping is banned.

If you stop, they order you
to drive on.

I push the gear-lever down
and take it out.

I crawl under the car every day.
I take this off first.

It's a long one.

Then I push the lever down
and take it out.

I do that every day.

I push it back up
every morning.

I put tape round it...

screw it on and hey presto.

It only takes five minutes.

I save my car in five minutes.

What is that yellow wire?

The horn is broken and
that yellow wire...

is the horn now.

Very ingenious.
- Yes.

You have to be ingenious
to survive this crisis.

That's how it is.

We couldn't make ends meet.

What now, I thought.

I saw lots of men
working as taxi-drivers.

I thought: Why don't I do that?

I said to myself: -

What's the difference,
man or woman?

Sometimes men are
more adventurous.

I said: Okay I'll sit on
my pussy and drive a cab.

And here you are in my taxi.

And is your pussy still
in the right place?

It's right where
it should be.

How long have you done this?
- About a year.

I'm doing well.

But if I had a choice...

I'd take another job.

Meanwhile I love my work.

When last I sought a letter

that I keep lovingly

I found among wilted roses

a photo of her
symbol of my passion

finding that photo
evoked memories

of that far-off time

of days of obsession
desires of tenderness

and intense yearning
for eternal passion

I know that time
has gone for good

that there's no point
in keeping up appearances

the love that binds
two souls together

was slowly lost without
oppression and fear

don't blame fate
that isn't noble

remember you sometimes
make big mistakes

listen to your emotions
and think hard

before you swear:
I love you dearly

When I think what Lima was like,
I get melancholy.

A famous Spanish poet once said:

Peru is made of
metal and melancholy.

He was right.

Why metal and melancholy?

Maybe because pain and poverty
made us as hard as our metals.

And melancholy because
we are tender too...

and wish for
the good old days.

It's a pity.

The city has as many craters
as the moon.

The taxi-drivers look
like astronauts...

who landed on
a polluted moon.

Our streets are like
your cheeses.

The streets of Lima smell worse
than Dutch cheese.

You feel like an astronaut?

More like a seafarer.

Taxi-drivers are the seafarers
of the 20th century.

We know the city like the sea.

We take the stories everywhere.

We spread news like
the old seafarers.

Thanks to us the Chink
won in 1990.

You mean Fujimori?
- Yes.

We spread the word like
an underground river.

That's why Fuji won.

I CHANGE DOLLARS

Taxi stickers, 50 cents.

How many do you sell a day?
- Ten or 15.

You want one?
- No thanks.

The one on my hat?

No, thanks.

Would you do me a favour?

Could you pay me now.
Then I can fill up.

The tank is almost empty.

You want it in advance?
- It would be better.

Please. We're passing
a gas station.

I can fill up there.

Okay. $ 2, wasn't it?
- Yes. One moment please.

One, two, three Sols.
- One moment, please.

How much?
- Ten dollars.

Diaries...

They're expensive.

Your car's a nice colour.
- Green. The colour of hope.

We hope things will improve
in our country.

You cannot say there's
no work.

Only lazy people can
say that.

We have to try to earn
an honest living.

Do you have another job?

Yes, with the Ministry
of Justice.

I work in the management...

of an internal control
department.

I like the work, but
can't make ends meet.

How much do you earn?
- About 200 dollars.

At the present exchange rate.

I can't survive.
I have a lovely family.

Whose is the shoe?
- My youngest daughter's.

How old is she?
- Two.

A prodigy.
- What?

She's a prodigy. Fantastic.

She exceeds all
my expectations.

She is quick and intelligent.
She's like her mother.

How old is her mother?
- 32.

But love is for all ages.

To love and be loved is great.

But it's terrible if
your love isn't answered.

This is my house.

Hello Mili. How's my little
girl?

This is my wife Luisa,
and my youngest, so far.

Her name is Militza Lilibet.

She's a darling too.
Her name is Cintia Luisa.

And the oldest: Alfredo L?ner.

There's lots of love
in this little house...

even if there's
no money.

Take a seat.
- Thank you.

When the lights go out
we make the best of things.

It's crazy, but this little
bulb gives us light.

When they cut off the power,
we turn that lamp on.

We have light all evening.

It makes us even happier.

We're nearly there.
It's the house on the corner...

with the palm tree out front.

That's it.

I'm renovating it to live here
with my family.

I teach at the aviation academy.

I retired from the air-force.

I pass on my knowledge to
officers in training.

This is the living room.
We can open the shutters.

What do you teach?
- Military science.

That's what I studied.

It's badly paid, but
gives satisfaction.

I stay in touch with my friends
and colleagues.

Come this way.

These rooms are
pretty neglected.

In better days this was
part of a table.

A huge table for
about 17 people.

Here you see...

an extension.

You see how big the table was.

It was huge.
This is half.

And the chest of drawers?
- There was a lovely chest here.

You can see the marks
on the wall.

19th century mahogany
wood-carving.

When my aunt died...

the heir took the chest.

Now I use this as a work-table.

Are they bags of nuts?
- Yes.

Why so many?

Sometimes my car's out of
action.

Then I buy 100 or 150 kilo
of nuts...

and roast them here.

This is an Italian fryer...

with revolving baskets.

So the nuts are roasted evenly.

And I use this machine...

to seal the bags of nuts.

I have a car.

So I can deliver the nuts
to schools and shops.

MERRY CHRISTMAS.

Only 20 dollars.

I want to ask you something.

I hope you don't mind.

You know the situation is
very difficult here.

The economy is in a mess.
There's high unemployment.

I wanted to ask if you...

Sorry. One moment...

I have ballpoints. No Parkers,
but they write as well.

I have piles of pens.
- Pity.

I also have these cakes.
They're deadly.

My wife bakes them.
They're filled with marzipan.

Real marzipan, not fake.

They're my favourites.
How much are they?

We'll work it out later.

With the credit card?
- Right. Caramba.

I'll buy them.

It's pretty embarrassing, but...

I'm a taxi-driver and actor.

Actor?
- Yes, for film and TV.

Film? Then we're colleagues.
- Sure.

What films did you act in?
- You know Francisco Lombardi?

Francisco Pancho Lombardi.
- I have seen a few of his films.

I did "Death in the Morning"
with him.

I played a prison director.
You know the film?

I haven't seen that one.

Then I played a salesman
in "lmmoral Stories".

And a film about guerillas:
"Warn the Compa?eros".

I played General Elosio Parra.

You feel okay as a general?

Well, they often ask me for
such roles.

In the TV series "Gamboa"
I was General Peralta...

head of the secret service.

I was also a taxi-driver
in "Maruja in Hell".

Then I played in "The City
and the Dogs".

Based on the novel by Vargas
Llosa?

Yes. Made by Lombardi.

Which role?
- Father of The Slave.

The cadet who's severely wounded.

I visit my son in hospital.

I wonder why they don't instruct
the boys better...

and how the accident could
happen.

I ask Pablo Serra, a cadet
from the same class...

to drink a cup of
coffee with me.

We drink coffee and
I burst into tears.

I cry like this, with
my glasses on my nose.

I cry because my son was shot.

It's his mother's fault.

Real tears, or glycerine?
- I really cried.

I concentrate to cry.
And I talk about my son.

That his mother always
treated him like a girl.

That she bought dolls for him.
I wanted him to be a man.

That's why I sent him
to military academy.

What a mess. I was the father.

You almost cried for real.
- Maybe, maybe.

What do you think?
We're colleagues.

Taxi, taxi. Only a dollar.

Buy something, please.

A pyramid for energy.

Cigarettes.

Elephant.

Pyramid.

Crocodile.

Cigarettes, madam?

Go away.
- What?

Go away. I don't want candy.

I only want to sell one.
Or two?

What's your name?
- Jorge.

I'm a tradesman.

The middle classes have
gone downhill.

The crisis started at
the turn of the century.

In the course of history,
the governments...

have bankrupted the country.

And between '85 and '90,
the last Apra government...

let the country go
to the dogs.

The governments were
ignorant and weak...

but above all corrupt.

When president Alan Garc?a
decided that Peru...

would stop paying off
the foreign debt...

he knew a blockade
was inevitable.

That foreign credits
would be impounded...

in the European banks.

He wanted to transfer
the money to other banks.

That way it couldn't be
impounded.

He put together the scheme...

to get commission.

The banks give commission if
money is transferred their way.

That commission is between
1 and 5% . Let's say 1%.

Over a sum of...

about 1.2 billion dollars...

Peru's international reserve
at the time...

that is 12 million dollars.

Did Alan Garc?a put 12 million
in his pocket?

He must have taken
at least 12 million.

That's why we're in such
a bad way. We're bankrupt.

Sir, please...

Take another car.
I have nothing.

Here, take it.
- Thank you.

Screw politics.

They keep us poor.

We live as beasts.

They strangle us.

Sod off.

Damn it.

We Peruvians have
a shit life.

What does life have to offer?

Hardly anything.

Fuck. The damn car's
broken down again.

I take it to the garage every
day. Now it's broken down again.

What are you doing here?

We're making a film for
Dutch TV.

You have permission?
- Yes.

In order.
- Thank you.

What's the film about?
- About taxi-drivers in Lima.

I'm a taxi-driver too.
You want to film me?

I wanted to work after
leaving school.

I had relatives in the police
so I joined too.

How old were you?
- 16. Just left school.

You wanted to work.
- Yes.

I wanted to be independent
of my family.

I always wanted to
look after myself.

I wanted to show people
I could manage alone.

I applied to the secret service
and was accepted.

You joined the "PIP"?
- The PIP or the "rayas".

The rayas or the "tiras".
- Something like that.

After the fish "raya"?

No. Raya: A straight line which
doesn't veer to left or right.

But always goes North.

Almost impossible.

Yes. That's why there are
so many bad policemen.

And their salary is too low.

When I was a student,
we laughed at the PIPs.

They were always buried in a
paper and had very short hair.

Everyone knew they were PIPs.

That must have been in '75?
- No, earlier.

I was also given a chance
to be an informer once...

during the teachers' strike.

I enlisted at the Guadelupe
school.

I was 17 and didn't look
like a secret agent.

I wore a school uniform
and went to school.

I sat in the classroom again.

I found out which teachers
were subversive.

I had to inform on
the subversive teachers.

They were wrong to break
windows...

and set cars alight.
I shopped those teachers.

I agreed with the ideas
of some of the others.

Because the teacher has to
educate our youth.

They rightly demanded higher
wages and better accommodation.

So you decided which of them
was good or bad?

I decided what was
subversive or just.

How could you distinguish?

A policeman isn't an animal
or machine.

He's human, like everyone.

He feels and thinks
like other people.

He is part of society
and fits in.

I serve people too with
my work as taxi-driver.

How many hours a day?
- About 8 hours.

Driving a taxi is better than
the PIP?

No, but you earn more.

As a policeman I earned less
than as a taxi-driver.

Now I work when I want and
take time off when I like.

I have more time for my family.

I'd have preferred to stay a
policeman...

and keep the car for myself.

I do this work to eat and live.

Finished.

All the loose bits on your car
make salsa music.

Don't you want a new one?

I have bad experiences
with new cars.

I was shot and wounded when
my last car was stolen.

With this car I can drive taxi
and meet great people.

People who are now my friends.

I have a friend living near
here.

They call him the Chinaman.

He and his son have a taxi.
Great people.

During the armed strike in
July...

By Shining Path?

The armed strike by
Shining Path...

some taxi-drivers kept
working.

What's an armed strike?
- When everyone stays home.

On the orders of Shining Path?
- Yes.

If you went out on the street
you could be murdered...

or have a bomb explode
beside you.

But that man...

needed the money badly.

The Chinaman's son
drove taxi that day.

He was shot dead in
a slum area.

Who did it?

His father and the police said
it was two terrorists.

They flagged down the taxi,
he stopped and they shot him.

He was unlucky that day.

Is his father still
a taxi-driver?

He looks after his son's family
and drives a taxi.

It's the only way
for him to survive.

The Chinaman is
very miserable.

His son was about 34.
A grown man.

That day, it was
his turn to lose.

Today the court martial
confirmed the life sentence...

on Abimael Guzman,
leader of the Shining Path...

and two other terrorists.

They have to pay a fine
of 25 million dollars.

I need air.

You kicked the tyre.

To feel it.

My foot rebounded.

Then I know how much air
is in the tyre.

You can feel that?
- I've kicked tyres for years.

How long have you had the taxi?

I've worked full-time
since 1984.

It was late December and
I was pretty busy.

On New Year's Eve I started work
after lunch.

I had lots of customers.

I went on working...

till midnight, 1 am.

I was hungry, went home and ate.

I grabbed some chocolate
and coca leaves.

I ate the chocolate and
chewed the coca leaves.

Why coca?

It banishes sleep and hunger.
You feel fit.

I chewed coca with chocolate.

I wasn't sleepy and kept
working.

Did you earn a lot?
- Bags of money.

I took it home and
went back to work.

I kept going until 10 am...

on 1 January 1985.

You still chew coca?
- No.

I don't need to. If there
was enough work I would.

In the mountains, in
a village of 33 houses...

where the people breed
like rabbits...

I learnt to chew
coca with chocolate.

The coca tastes awful
without it.

Most families had
about 8 children.

Of those eight,
2 or 3 might survive.

Some mothers made their children
work when they were 13.

They kept going with coca.

Why bring us here?

Because I know Lima well
and this is Lima too.

I don't like this show.

It's All Saints and look:
The day to fill your belly.

Where are you taking me
in the cemetery?

To door 6.
The communal grave.

Where's the grave?
- At the back.

Aren't you afraid of death?
- No.

Once I fell off a roof
in Chanchamayo.

I felt something strange.

I saw the people and
felt a stabbing pain.

I felt something leave me
for an invisible place.

I felt a kind of void.

I saw my body and
the people around me.

You saw your own body?
- Yes, but I didn't understand.

The doctor gave me a slap,
I reacted...

and felt a terrible pain.

When the doctor came, my heart
had stopped beating, he said.

Since then I have changed.

I am no longer afraid of death.

Anyway, it's better there.

Where?
- On the other side.

You know: The other side, death.

There's no pain there.

When my body returned,
I felt a terrible pain.

There you're free,
completely free.

Are you free there?

Yes. It means freedom.
You can move faster.

Faster? Without the taxi?
- Yes, without the taxi.

You walk around and look.

It's a great feeling.

You feel free of tension.

Like the tension I felt...

when I opened my eyes
and thought: What happened?

The unidentified bodies
are in this grave.

After a fatal accident, the body
is taken to the mortuary.

If the family doesn't come within
a fortnight, it's brought here.

The body has a number plate
on the wrist.

Sometimes the family
turns up after a month.

They recognise the person and
drag him out to bury him.

This is were we all end
and I'm not afraid.

You asked if I was afraid
of death. No I'm not.

I don't believe you.

The smell is still in my nose.
- It lasts a few days.

The smell is in your nose hairs.
You have to clean your nose.

Not with cotton wool, but
with your own sweaty clothes.

A trick?

No, a doctor taught me.

A difficult route. No power,
so no traffic lights.

I have a son of 13.
You have children?

I have three. The eldest,
Rodrigo, is seven.

Laurita is five and
Rodolfito is three.

Laurita is sick. She's receiving
oncological treatment.

What is that?

When she was three, she had
cancer in her blood.

Lymphatic leukaemia. That seems
to be the most positive form.

It has the best prognosis.

She has a lumbar puncture
every three months...

and blood tests every month.

We have to be very careful
with her.

If she has a cold she must
go straight to hospital.

Not every doctor can treat her.

She is often in hospital.
- Painful and costly too.

Yes, exorbitant.

When she fell ill,
I could still afford it.

Now it's difficult.
It's expensive.

Tomorrow there's another test
with a general anaesthetic.

I don't have money for medicines.
That's why I drive a taxi.

Otherwise I can't manage.

How is she now?
- It looks good.

Once it was almost too late.
Her larynx was blocked.

She had mouth-to-mouth
resuscitation and oxygen.

But it was all right.

She has built up a lot of
resistance. She's a fighter.

I'm crazy about my girl.
She's only five.

A girl of five, a fighter?

Yes, she's easy.

If her little brother takes
her toy...

she plays with something
else.

Where does the fight
come from?

When she fell ill, we didn't
know what would happen.

You know cancer
means death.

We didn't know how it would end.
We were afraid and sad.

We had to tell her
life was worthwhile.

We had to encourage her to live.

Because anaesthetics and
daily injections and tests...

are unbearable for
a girl of three.

She had to discover
her own strength.

We could only give her love...

and tell her how important
she was to us.

That we wanted to keep
her with us.

That she could do so much.
Play with her dolls...

go to the beach, walk.

We wanted her to understand...

that there were better things
than lying in hospital.

At a certain point...

medicines made her dislike...

meat and fish.

Other things she did like.

She ate snacks and
things in tins and plastic.

We brought her packed food.
No, thank you.

On the way back?
- Yes, on the way back.

She had stuffed herself once
and I said:

"Laurita, you have a surprise?"
"No, Daddy," she said.

"But your belly is so fat."
"No nothing."

"Will I be a grandpa?
Are you having a baby?"

"Great, I'll be a grandpa
and you'll be a mummy."

"You'll go walking with the baby
and buy toys for Christmas."

And she laughed.

I wanted to tell her there
were so many nice things.

That life was worthwhile
despite the pain.

That she had to persevere.

I wanted my daughter
to keep fighting.

She had to know there's
a positive side to suffering.

Life is hard, but beautiful.

How old is your car?
- From '58.

Respect your elder.

A Volkswagen.
- A Cheeky Beetle.

Another one.

Nothing can happen to you
in this car.

You'll come out alive
if it rolls over.

A kind of bunker.
- None better.

You can even drive
in your sleep.

Are you divorced?
Or weren't you married?

What's your story?

A long love story.
We started young.

Our love lasted for a long time.
For 13 years.

Later he started to change.

Then I became pregnant,
unfortunately.

Who was he?
- The father of my son.

As good-looking as you?
- Handsome and irresponsible.

I had a great time.

You live life to the full
when you're young.

You want to enjoy life and
succumb to your emotions.

We lived life intensely.

We travelled a lot and
had great fun.

We were popular at parties.
We were happy.

When I went out with him,
I felt like a queen.

He always said I was the
most beautiful and sweetest.

We were cheerful and
always had fun.

That's how time passed until
I found out he was deceiving me.

I decided to leave him.
But I was five months pregnant.

We stayed together for the child.

He offered to marry me.

But that was no answer for me.

He still hadn't changed.

Marriage isn't the only way
to be happy.

You can't be happy if
there's no respect.

Did you stay on your own?
- Yes.

I am both father and mother.

I live with my father. He's 85.

He never accepted me
as unmarried mother.

He keeps trying to kick us out.

Especially when he drinks.

Sunday he hits the bottle.

We have to run for our lives.

Eat up quick and get out.

He doesn't accept I am
an unmarried mother.

He won't forgive me.

He can't see I'm father
and mother to my child...

and that I earn our keep.

He doesn't care if I'm
a good mother and daughter.

He keeps insulting me.

You look after your father and
son and take children to school?

I get up at six.

I shower and make sandwiches
for my son.

I run to fetch the car.

After breakfast I take
children to school.

At eight I drive my taxi.

By 11:30 I need to make enough money
to go shopping.

Then I go to the market.

Then I clear up and cook.

At 1:30 school's out and
I fetch the children.

In the afternoon I do
the washing and cleaning.

From 5 to 8 I drive
the taxi again.

That's how time passes with...

With all that, do you have time
to laugh in between?

However busy it is,
I keep dancing.

I wash, iron, cook...
But I keep dancing.

I dance all the time.
I'd have liked a dance school.

I'm mad about dancing and music.

Sometimes my son says:
Mum, I want to watch TV.

Darling, I want to dance.
To my last breath.

I'm mad about dancing and music.

I dance when I cry.
I dance when I cook.

Whether I'm sad or glad,
music rules my life.

That's how I cope with life.

Here it is.

Thanks. How much is it.

Two dollars, madam.

Thank you, madam.

Can we make a portrait of you?
- Of course. I'd love to.

A portrait. Why not?

I thank you for taking my photo.

How old is your car?
- It's from '63.

Almost 30 years old.
- 29.

Next year he'll be 30.

Will you celebrate?
- Of course.

He's been my partner for
30 years.

You have to celebrate that.

How will you celebrate?
- Pour champagne over him.

I hope he'll stay with me.

"Brother," I say, "behave
yourself.

Run. Don't desert me."

He keeps running.
We always manage.

If you talk to him?
- Lf I say "brother", he goes.

Sometimes he stutters a bit.
But we always make it.

We're a wreck,
but we make it.

Magic.
- Fantastic.

We're both fantastic.
"We made it, brother," I say.

He knows your voice?
- Yes.

It's as if he listens to me.
Incredible.

He seems to understand me.

I tell him things. But maybe
you don't believe me.

What do you tell him?

Sometimes I sing a song
for him. Listen:

I'm not from here
I come from Trujillo

no one worries about me
I worry about no one

I'm going to Trujillo
and not coming back

We sing and ride
and stumble home.

Your voice encourages him.
- Yes.

If he doesn't want to start,
I say: You're lazy, aren't you?

Just start. And he starts.

After lots of clanking
and zooming, he starts.

When he's broken down, I get
headache and fever.

You and the car are one.

Incredible. If he stops,
I'll stop too.

It looks as if we'll
grow old together.

Grey and wrinkled.

And with no windows.
The windows's bust.

There's no glass in it.

Long ago I was in love
with a foreigner.

Her name was Marlene.

An Italian visiting Peru
for the first time.

We went to the beach and
had lots of fun.

I was poor and I don't know
where I got the money.

After a fortnight she said
she had to go back to Italy.

She said to me:
I'll take you with me.

For better or worse,
I'll take you too.

The last evening we
went to a hotel.

We took a bottle of
whisky with us.

We drank and were cheerful
all night.

We cried in the morning.
Because she went and I stayed.

I took her to the airport.

The farewell was sentimental,
sad.

You know how hard
farewells can be.

I said to her: Marlene,
you know...

that our love is impossible.

I can't come to you.

And something else, I said.

You can't mix water and oil.

Because she was white
and you're brown?

That's right.

If I had gone to Italy
with her...

what would her parents
have said of me?

I thought of so many things.

The moment had come
to say farewell.

She didn't want to get in.
I had to come with her.

The plane was about to leave.

It was already delayed 5
minutes.

Then her name was called.

And she left.

It was a sad farewell
for both of us.

I never saw her again.

How will she be now?
She knows nothing of me either.

I didn't get any more letters.
Nothing at all.

I still have a memento of her.

We heard this song in
the village where we were.

It is a pasillo from Ecuador.

I always have the cassette with
me. My only memento of her.

You want to hear it?

Every day that passes

every hour and every minute

I feel I love you

love you more and more

no distance or time

no saints in the church

can stop me saying

I love you

darling, I love you

with heart and soul

I love you truly

I love you so much

that's why in the world

there's no one and nothing

to stop me saying

I love you

Translated by Martin Cleaver

That's my memento of her.