Severina (2017) - full transcript

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Prologue

“(...) children of her kind
invent the purest philosophies.

Ada had worked on
her own little system.

Not a week had passed
since Van's arrival...

...and he was already worthy to be
initiated into her web of wisdom.

She said...

...'An individual's life consists
of certain ranks of things:

Real things...

...which are rare and invaluable...

...'simple things'...

...which are ordinary and normal...



...and 'ghost things'...

...or 'mists'...

...such as fever...

...toothache...

...terrible letdowns...

Three or more things that happen
at once make up a 'tower'.

Or, if they happen in
immediate succession...

a 'bridge'.

'Real towers' and 'real bridges'
are the joys of life.

And when the 'towers' occur in series...

you experience supreme ecstasy.

But that hardly ever happens.

In some circumstances
under a certain light

a 'simple thing'



can seem or even become a 'real thing'.

Or even...

It can quickly turn into
a frightful 'mist'.

When joy and the absence
of joy come together...

either simultaneously or over time...

the result is a ruined tower...

or a broken bridge.”

On Monday evenings...

We organized readings.

We had nothing better to do,
and we were into books.

Much worse things happen here, but
that's not what I want to talk about now.

Chapter I
The thousand and second night.

“There are as many kinds of
women as there are women.”

“There are as many kinds of
women as there are women.”

I'm looking for a gift.

May I ask who it's for?

For my boyfriend.

Ah, boyfriend...

I have some new arrivals
in the Japanese section.

You know where it is.

Yes.

Yes, I love the Japanese, but...

He doesn't like them,
he says they're a fad.

Do you have the
"Thousand and One Nights"?

There is a French translation...

By Galland…

I might have one of the volumes.

There, on the back wall.

Second column...

Second shelf, bottom up.

Thank you.

No, no luck.

I think I'll buy him a perfume.

Well, come back whenever you want.

- Thank you.
- Bye!

"A loss that can be repaired with
money is not of great importance."

"What's your name?"

Hi.

Where did you put it?

What?

Where did you put it?

You scared me, jerk!

Where did you put it?

Give me back the book.

What? What is this?

What are you doing?

Give me back the book.

Open it!

Let me out!

Give me back the book.

Open it!

- Give me back the book and you can leave.
- No, open it!

Calm down!

Lift the shutters! I'm going to
call out to somebody!

- I won't do you any harm.
- I'll ask for help.

Give me the book and you can go!

Plus, I have a list of
what you've been...

...taking, and I let you do
it, I don't know why!

Yes, why?

I have security cameras,
you know? There!

There!

There!

There is evidence!

You were filming me.

You're not from here, are you?

No.

- Give me back the book!
- I'm sorry.

Will you forgive me?

Forgive you? Give me
the book, come on.

There you are.

And the others?

We forget about them.

No.

We won't forget.

Let's just say you and I
now have a personal debt.

Now let me out.

What's your name?

Ana.

I don't follow you, precisely!

You have a...

a... a...

A technological capability
that is your own memory...

What is your problem?

I have no problem.

...A book of memory for love.

Not for the need to survive.

Bookstores are like a
nest of maggots of ideas.

Books are animals
that vibrate and mutter.

You're not the great
poet you think you are.

That's the true.

But it doesn't mean that I
don't like what you do.

But... But...

It's not that I don't
like what you write...

You're confusing me.

You're too sentimental.

Books vibrate...

Do you need anything?

No, nothing. Thank you.

At last I find you!

Oh, it's you.

Out for a walk?

Will it bother you
if I join you awhile?

As you wish.

Can I ask you something?

You can try…

What do you do with the books?

Look, I appreciate that you
let me off the other day...

But what I do or don't do
with the books is my own thing.

It's personal.

Now I'm more curious than before.

What a noise those birds make!

It's mating time.

Are you interested in birds?

I'm interested in mating.

Almost everything interests me.

You live alone?

- I live with my dad.
- And how old is your dad?

- Are you always such a snoop?
- No.

Do you live around here?

Okay, I'll stop asking.

Can I still walk with you awhile?

Why are you walking with me?

Because.

I figured...

You're not the first one, you know?

I live here.

- Bye.
- Bye.

- Hi.
- Hi. Welcome.

I thought I wasn't
going to see you again.

I came for the reading. Too early?

Yes...

No!

Well, I will stay then.

Leave it.

What are you reading?

Kenko, Aphorisms.

- Can I see it?
- Yes.

"It's better not to change things,
if change does not do any good."

It sounds obvious.

Aphorisms usually do.

"It is unattractive for someone to mingle
with people from another class..."

whether it be an Easterner who
mixes with people from the capital...

"or a man from the capital who has
gone to the East in search of fortune."

What do you think?

- That it doesn't sound like an aphorism.
- No, it sounds like prejudice.

Well,
it's from the fourteenth century.

Yeah, prejudice doesn't respect time,
and stupidity doesn't, either.

You're pretty severe.

No, I'm from the class of people who
mix with people from other classes.

So Kenko is wrong.
It's hard to find someone...

more interesting than you.

Thank you!

I cannot see you,

I have no means to see you,

The noise tipping me, burning, love;

From other foreign circles, so strong,

that does not leave and does not feel,

that splits my head, my chest,

to drop them on the stream

and dance through my body,
undone, love.

They say, love,
that I am engraved in ice

and that I press my fingers;

And I die alone,

without a flower,

gazing at the sky

and the water;

Because I wait, knowing that you float

to the other side of the air;

Meanwhile, I rise up to the sun

to gaze at you, neglected,

river love.

Now I am surrounded by the flames

that grow in time, sleep-deprived,

higher, sustained by the water;

And the branches of my hair
burn as it waves in the wind,

strange, violent, love.

I cannot see you...

From other foreign circles...

I cannot see you...

Love, burning...

From other foreign circles...

So strong...

And dance through my body...

They say, love, that I
am engraved in ice...

I press my fingers...

That does not leave
and does not feel...

The branches of my hair burn...

It waves in the wind...

- I'll come by tomorrow.
- All right, see you.

- Well, man, did you like it?
- I loved it.

We're closing in five minutes!

Can I stay?

You didn't steal anything, did you?

Do you want to frisk me?

Really?

Satisfied?

No.

Do you want to go on?

Okay.

Really?

Are you done?

I'm suddenly hungry.

Do you want to go eat something?

It's all closed now.

No, I know a place.

Well...

I'm coming with you.

I haven't been in a
restaurant in a long time.

- Are we walking there?
- Yes.

Okay...

You're very nice...

this is the feeling I get.

But life sucks...

- Will you walk me to the boarding house?
- No, no! Why?

Why do you say life sucks?

It's too complicated.

That's true.

Let's go to the boarding house?

- Will you walk me?
- Yes.

I'd like to meet your...

...father...

...or boyfriend.

If possible.

No, no. Actually...

I don't think that's a good idea.

Sorry.

Chapter II A Love Delusion.

- Hi.
- Hi.

- How can I help you?
- Is the house open?

Yes, we rent rooms
on a weekly basis.

- Could I see one?
- Of course.

Come on in.

- How many rooms are there?
- Sixteen.

- And do you have any other one available?
- No.

This is the only one.

- How much is it?
- Six hundred.

I'm staying.

A new life?

I don't think so. It's not the first
time I give in to a bookish impulse.

Are you writing a book?

Maybe. A love delusion.

Nothing serious.

How wonderful that you came!

- I've wanted to see you for days.
- Really?

I went searching for you.

Where?

At the bookstore.

Really? I was right here.

Why?

Do you need something?

A question...

a girl who lives here with her father.

I saw her a few days ago.

You know who I'm talking about?

A girl who lives here with her father?

What is her name?

I'm not sure, I think it's Ana.

I don't remember any young woman
who stayed here with her father.

My books!

My books…

The woman who you asked me about yesterday
was here all night waiting for you.

She grabbed her things and left
this morning. Less than an hour ago.

But... you told me there was no
woman living here with her father.

There isn't. The thing is,
he's not her father.

She left.
She grabbed her things and left.

What? He's not her father?

Besides, I can't be giving out
information about our guests.

See?

You didn't even know her
name, that's odd, right?

Hey, she's my girlfriend. I know it's odd
that I don't know her full name, but…

we've just met and
started a relationship.

You say she took whose things?
Did she take my things?

No one came into your room
and took your books.

Yes, someone came into my
room and took my books.

- Silvina didn't steal your books.
- Silvina?

Yes, look here...

Silvina Ocampo.

Occupation: Writer;
Nationality: Argentinian.

No, no, that's not her name,
I know you don't believe me.

I'm not saying she stole my books,
but I know she took them.

Such are the delusions of love.
That's why I keep away from that.

It's too late...

If she goes away, I'll lose her forever...
Did they say where they were headed?

To the airport. I think
they were going to the

airport. She was
carrying loads of books.

Two full suitcases…

To the airport?

Chapter III
Neither the first nor the only one

Ahmed is an old bookseller...

What I'll be someday,
if I keep going like this.

Muslim with a Jew parent, even though
he calls himself an atheist,

he has a wide knowledge
of the christian doctrine.

Don't worry, she'll come back.

She's come back two
or three times before.

She'll be back again.

How's business?

Going.

Impossible as it may seem.

I guess most people read
little to nothing, but...

Thank God...

there are still some who love books.

Ah yes. Look!

- Have you read it?
- "Alchemy and its silent book". No.

It's not bad for a Spaniard.

- It's yours, okay?
- Really?

Thank you.

And why did this book
make you think of me?

You and I, as I see it, we
are like alchemists.

Did she steal many
books from you?

Plenty...

The truth is, I let her steal them,
so I'm not complaining.

She's stolen from many bookstores.

Many?

And did something happen
between the two of you, too?

It's happened to many. You
weren't the first nor the only one.

- And the old man, who is he?
- Her boyfriend.

You thought he was her father, but no.

It can happen to anyone,
but not to me.

They owe me a bundle.
And they are going to pay me!

I swear!

Sooner or later,
they are going to pay!

- You made a deal with them?
- A deal?

She seduced me.

This girl is a book thief.
She steals from many booksellers.

Many?

I once caught her with a first edition of
Laoust's tales, you know? A treasure.

I called the police,
they arrested her.

The boyfriend had to come and
settle it with money.

He said that she had a disorder.

That she only stole books,
and she read them later.

Which is good news.

He asked me to let her go
back to the bookstore.

And that he'd pay for the
books she had taken.

He told me that without
her knowledge,

asked me to keep it a secret.

She used to come in the morning...

take three or four books
and then I checked

the shelves to see which
titles were missing.

I called the boyfriend, who'd
come in the afternoon to pay.

But the last time, she took
many more books than usual...

she had a backpack.

And when I called him on the phone,
they told me they were gone.

Wrote the books off.

Some were very rare.

That's why I went to the airport,
they told me they were gone.

I went, too.

Yes, many did.

And did he pay you?

Some.

He assured me that they'd return.
He promised to pay for the rest.

And when are they coming back?

In the winter.

We'll have to wait
for the winter, then.

Many things happened,

...or rather, I heard that
many things happened

around the time when
Ana disappeared.

The lynching in the
villages escalated,

there was a coup d'état
in the neighboring country,

they found stagnant water in Mars.

I read, bought and sold many books.

I celebrated another birthday.

I met other women.

My life was reduced to books again,

I had become one more copy
of that melancholy species:

The bookseller aspiring
to be a writer.

At last, winter came.

I held no more readings
until the end of July.

And I resigned myself
to never see her again.

Chapter IV:
The father and the boyfriend.

Did you get the message
I left at the boarding house?

I'm Otto Blanco.

Does it have to do with Ana?

Yes. It has to do with Ana.

Don't worry, but yes.

I understand
that you're her boyfriend.

Is that what she said?

She told me that she
lived with her father.

Well, yes.

I'm her father.

Yes, she told me that,
but I didn't believe her.

She also told me she had a boyfriend.

What do you want?

Did she steal something?

It has to do with
a stolen book, right?

She stole... I mean, no...

She stole... but not books.

Not a book?

She also stole books,
many books from me.

Not only from bookstore.
She steals from many bookstores.

Here, I have a list of what she took.

All those books...

we read together.

I never knew where she got them from.

I'm sorry.

She doesn't always
tell me everything.

How much do we owe you?

I'd like to see Ana again.

You're not the first man to
fall in love with her, you know.

Yes, I know, she told me.

Well...

if you change your mind
send me the bill.

Sir?

As you can see, there
are no customers.

I close the shutters and that's that.

I'm practically a bum.

Let me just say that
we're ordinary people.

I have my ideas and she shares them.

In her own way.

I've always lived on books,

only on books.

My father, my grandfather, and me too,
each one in your own ways.

So you were a bookseller,
you were a writer?

We've been accused of
all kinds of crimes, offenses, vices.

And all we've done...

...is make our living out of books.

And behind these objects
we call books...

there's a spirit of class.

There is a class struggle
between books.

Unfortunately, in such wars,
the best don't always win.

But the strongest.

I'm just another bookseller.

And I fell in love with her.

If she slept with you…

If that happened,

you should feel proud of yourself.

Now excuse me.

Tell me where to find her.

Stop looking for her.

Forget about her.

She's dead.

Dead.

Chapter V: Hell.

The idea of ​​love,

inherited from the romantics,

which relate it to death,
is too gloomy for today.

Love now, in the twenty-first century,
should be different, right?

Sentimental…

In my new project I'll
create a living collar.

I'm going to use it on
stray dogs or cats.

I'll introduce through the mouth
of the animal a fishing line

attached to a ball of rubber
smeared with honey to

to make it easier to swallow.

What happens next, what is
the logical and natural process?

The animal ejects, through
the anus, the rubber ball,

which is attached to the fishing line,

which will smeared with
honey again,

to be inserted into the mouth
of the second animal,

as if it were
a living string of beads!

An "Avaler" string,

which in French means
"to swallow". Brilliant!

Watch the step!

Man, as I was telling you, this guy…

he swallows a fork, well, I don't know
if it was a fork or a knife.

The point is that two days
later the guy dies.

With his thing pierced through...

Well, we're done, eh?

He fainted.

It was a stroke, I suppose.

He's going to die…

No, no, no.

I think he'll die.

He's going to be all right.

I'm scared of hospitals.

Will you stay with me?

- Yes?
- Yes.

Yes, Ana, I'll take care of it.

Are you OK?

How do you feel?

Fearful,

hopeful…

You have to fill this in.

Name, address,
phone number, you know...

The father?

Me?

No...

him.

Yes.

He's your father, right?

No, hers.

And you?

The boyfriend.

His?

Hers.

What happened to the man?

We don't know yet.

I hope it's nothing.

Thank you.

Everything will be all right.

Can I... sit here and wait?

Yes.

He hasn't come to yet, so
he'll have to stay in the hospital.

It'll be expensive to
keep him here, right?

Tonight is already paid for.

Really?

Thank you.

We can go now.

Can I go to your place?

Of course.

Chapter VI: Paradise.

You won't believe me, but…

I've been to Borges's
library in Buenos Aires.

Really?

His widow wouldn't let anyone in.

But...

I somehow managed to...

convince the person in
charge to let me in.

Under strict surveillance, of course,

security cameras, everything...
Same as here.

I went there for three weeks straight.

The happiest three weeks of my life.

It was amazing.

Very chaotic, but...

full of jewels.

Did you know that Borges...

made notes on the margins of books,

usually on the first
or the last pages?

And...

some of those notes...

are the beginning or even the end of
some of his best known stories.

I took nothing from there.

I couldn't. I didn't feel like it.

He shouldn't stay
in the hospital, right?

No.

I wasn't going to say it,

but as you mentioned it,

I don't think they can do
much for him there.

So maybe we should go back
to the boarding house.

No...

No, you can live here.

There's room in my studio.

You'll be much more comfortable.

It's not great, but...

I think it's enough
for someone in a coma.

I can ask Juana to clear
all these things out.

I'll ask her to come.

Okay, but this is your workplace.

Juana is the cleaning woman, right?

Yes.

Can I tell you something?

Cleaning women have
always scared me.

Why? You're afraid they'll rob you?

No! It's just that they know
everything about your life

and you know... nothing
about theirs.

Exactly the kind of relationship
you and I have.

That's what happens when connections
are built out of necessity.

In those cases...

there isn't much to be done.

I promise that when he gets better
we'll find him a better place.

But is he going to wake up?

Of course! I myself need to
spend a time like this.

Well, then...

He fell...

Then the nutcase arrives in the ER...
Lower the stretcher there.

We open him, we give him first aid…

Over here.

Over here.

I don't know what happened.
It broke or something...

It has to be cut.

It has to be cut...

We have to go upstairs?

Well done.

Will he stay here?

Ready? One, two, three...

All right.

Let's put the saline...

I'll fix it.

Can you?

They're gone.

Maybe it's better
to disconnect him, right?

I don't know what to think...

After a few days, I understood
that I would have to

take care of the old man
practically by myself.

She never made me believe that
she wanted to live with me forever.

But her walks were getting
longer and longer.

For her, the books were
more interesting than I.

She lived in my bookstore,
but still stealing from the others.

We didn't lose the habit
of reading together,

different books in silence,
sometimes during the whole night,

exchanging some remarks, some ideas
about books and life in general.

The best muse is a flesh-and-bone one.

Who is this by?

I don't know! Someone
wrote it on the margin.

"The Romantic Agony" by Mario Praz.

I hope you don't mind my dad
taking up your space all this time.

It's not messing up your life, is it?

No, not at all!

You don't seem very happy.

Happy?

I've never been happier in my life.

Your boyfriend... Your father can
stay as long as he needs,

or as you find necessary.

Mr. Blanco?

Mr. Blanco?

Mr. Blanco, I've been thinking...

and I came to the conclusion...

that...

that it would be a problem
for you to open your eyes.

That would completely change
my relationship with Ana.

I'm ashamed to admit it
but our relationship

depends largely on your
unconscious state.

The last thing I want right now
is for things to change.

Even though it'd be extremely
easy for me to end your life,

I've convinced myself
that I don't have to.

- Did you keep him company?
- Yes.

He's fine.

More books?

You've brought me luck.

Why?

Because ever since we got
together, they haven't caught me.

What's up?

You look worried.

Can you read my thoughts?

It's because of dad. You've had it.

No.

Yes, I'm worried.

I've been thinking…

It seems to me that the
best thing for everyone,

and that includes him, is
to let him die.

Maybe.

Because this act of freedom,
as literature, it has to be burned,

It has...

it has to be restrained.

Burned, incinerated.

- It's more like burning ideas... like...
- When they came in the conquest,

when Pizarro burned everything down...

Did they burn it thinking that
an electronic platform would come?

Precisely.

Because language
is what saves you,

memory is what saves you, a book doesn't
save you, no reading support will save you

what saves you is the memory of
people and you as individuals.

That's what Bradbury is trying
to say, is that memory,

and you keep things inside you,
this is what ensures your freedom.

That's what he's talking about.

What do you think? I
think, for example...

...that paper will take
centuries to disappear.

Hermeto Pascoal talked
about being off-key...

When a teacher invited
him for a class and said,

"Everyone is off-key", he said "No, no,
the problem is that you have an ugly face",

then the guy would laugh, thinking
it was a joke, but it wasn't a joke.

Nobody goes off-key, nobody,
the problem is that...

Wasn't that João Gilberto?

I myself think that paper will take
centuries to disappear.

Even though they burn them.

You know what? You know what?

This joint gives you a bad
trip. This joint is no good.

What I'm saying is...

This difficulty you have that
there are people who don't love you.

That there are people who can
agree with what's on your mind.

I'm not ruining it...
Who will buy this book from you?

It's a classic,
and a classic always sells.

"Elettronico ultimi dieci
anni, libri cinque secoli."

Like the paper that will take
centuries to disappear.

Business is going well,

incredible as it may seem,
people keep reading books,

at least enough for me to keep this.

I'm thinking of selling.

What? What are you selling?
Everything?

Yes, everything, the bookstore.

Lately, the simple exchange of cash
for books has begun to seem

an increasingly inelegant trade.

Besides, I want to...

write a novel and if not now, when?

Why are you selling?

Because I'm thinking about
making a long trip.

Where to?

What's wrong?

You did good.

What did I do?

You took care of him.

Chapter VII The body.

What do we do? We report to
the police, what are we going to do?

Not the police!

And the body? What we do?

We can't wait much longer.

We have no papers.

What?

Identity.

- Don't you have passports?
- Yes, a lot of them and they're all fake.

Are you serious?

There's something I never told you.

I tried to go.

Go?

Yes.

Go when, where?

I don't know.

I don't know, I was... I'm confused.

Yes, I tried to go. I couldn't.

- Go where?
- I don't know!

I don't know, I bought a ticket.
I couldn't use it.

Why didn't you tell me?

Because I can't stand depending
on you completely!

Don't you get it?

- It's not easy.
- It's not easy.

We have to think about
the body, my love.

The corpse.

We've been carrying it
since we began.

Don't you cry anymore.

Don't cry.

Let's go for a ride.

Now.

The three of us.

It's the best shovel I could get.

I've always meant to buy a better
shovel for such occasions.

And I always put it off.

What brought me here? Love?

Are we there?

Yes, we have to continue
on foot from here.

Will you help me?

Sooner or later,
they'll find him there.

No, I don't think so.

Let's get out of here.

Tomorrow we start anew
somewhere else.

I don't want to start
anything anywhere.

What?

How come?

I don't want to start
anything anywhere.

I want to continue doing what
I've always done. I need to...

Keep traveling from one place
to another, as I've always done.

With me?

Yes!

Yes…

Nice place.

I congratulate you.

And the little beast?

Upstairs.

And the old man?

That's what I wanted to
talk to you about.

I can imagine what you're
going to tell me.

Oh, yeah? And how do you know?

I haven't lived so long
to learn nothing.

You're more beautiful than ever.

You too.

We were leaving.

I want you to pay
what you owe me before.

Okay.
I can pay you right now if you want.

- With the bookstore.
- The bookstore?

You can keep anything you want,
as long as you leave us alone.

All right.

Where is your boyfriend?

My dad.

He's dead.

We buried him in the woods.

You can end up like him, you know?

Ana!

At my age it won't be a big loss.

But the money, I don't
know why, I need it.

You are trapped like a
mouse, aren't you?

You got trapped back into her lies.

Nobody can blame you.

She's beautiful.

Her name is also beautiful.

Ana means "I" in Arabic.

Ana means "I"?

Since she couldn't afford to
pay, she proposed to marry me.

A Muslim ceremony.

She said she would convert.

She proposed...

She proposed marriage?

What do you have there?

A book.

I propose that you take it
in exchange for the bookstore.

And your silence.

Can I see it?

It's the sacred book,
what's special about your edition?

This is the only book I stole...

From Borges's library.

There on the margin,
are notes written by him.

It's the beginning of one of his
best known stories.

"The Zahir"?

Is it possible? Are you fooling me?

You tell me.

I keep the book.

Tell me more about your life.

I've had many lives.

And what do you do with
your concerns?

It's a secret.

Well, tell me.

If I tell, it's not a secret anymore.

You and I should always
be together.

Yes?

Always?

Always.

Always.

Chapter VIII A Love Delusion.

A woman can leave you for lack
of love or for excess of love.

For this or for that...

For everything or for nothing.

Ana!

Ana!

Ana didn't take anything
that wasn't hers.

She didn't steal even a book.

And that seemed to me
one more sign of ingratitude.

Nor did she leave a note...

a word, an explanation...

she just left a book open on a page.

While I was out of the bookstore
getting rid of Otto's things,

she left the apartment,

with her few belongings
in her backpack...

And never came back.

As if she were a delusion
of my own imagination.

I looked for her at the boarding
house, all across the city.

I called the department
of missing persons.

As for Ahmed...

he'd accepted the book
because he was confident

that sooner or later he'd
find a buyer.

An enlightened fool.

An snob, who'd pay a lot of
money for something fake.

Life sucks.

But as you told me...

we have many lives.

And maybe in one of them,
some day, Ana...

will tear out some of her hair...

And scatter it over my body.

Epilogue.

“I don't want to be cruel...

But I'll tell you bluntly what
I consider to be your flaws...

And I sincerely hope
it'll influence you.

Like most people...

You're not able to cope with
more than one fear in life.

You spend all your time running from your
first fear towards your first hope.

Be careful not to fall into
your own trap and always

end up at the same place
you started from.

I don't advise you to spend your
life surrounded by things

that you find necessary for
your existence...

regardless of whether or
not they are interesting.

I sincerely believe that...

only men who can fight within
themselves a second tragedy...

and not the first one repeatedly,

are worthy of being called mature.

When you think someone advances...

Make sure that person is not,
in fact, stuck in the same place.

To move forward, it's
necessary to leave behind

things that most people
can't let go of.

You carry your first pain like
a magnet in your heart.

Because all sweetness
comes from there.

You're going to
carry it all your life,

but you can't keep spinning around it.

You'll have to give up
seeking those things that

serve only to hide your
face from yourself.

You'll have the illusion that they're
different and multiple.

But they're always the same.

If you're only interested
in a safe life...

maybe these words aren't for you.

To watch somebody leave...

Can also mean a wonderful thing.