a film by Benoît Labourdette
Barcelona hotel
You remember ?
We were sitting there. All three.
At a time you got up. You leaned here.
Don't you think we feel your presence yet ?
I always wondered if places, objects, retained a memory of the past.
I feel that this is the case for this chair.
The memory of you, but also the memory of all the others before you,
who sat and got up,
which may have cried or laughed, on this chair.
All women. Men, whatever !
I kept sat on this chair.
And in that chair there, it was him, who sat there, too.
But him, I hate him. I tell you, I hate him.
He was staring at you, look how he looked at you,
when you were there, happy talking to both of us.
To me or to him ? Or both ?
This is not my view that you see there, it's his.
Him today, he does not care, it is not his life any more,
but I'm here now,
and his eyes on you sticks to me.
Now, there are no more than your face
which cuts out the night of this city in Europe.
I want to forget forever this evening,
or rather remember it, but without him.
There, there is the moment where you turn around.
And you turn around to him. You look at him in the eyes, for long seconds.
You keep there... eyes in the eyes ... as if I did not exist.
It's like a freeze frame on your eyes.
But now I remember, I put myself at his place,
and I see you, in front of me. Finally.
And now, now,
I return to this place, that day, in my head.
And here I am again in the room. Do you remember ?
This, this is the morning, the early morning.
Only one person had slept here. Myself.
Yes, you had fun in your connivance
and I could not see or I didn't want to see.
And both of you, full of energy and desire, you spoke to join friends
for a drink later.
And I said I was tired, I would wait here
and I wished you both to have good fun.
He had another room, in which he was alone.
And then I slept, slept badly I think.
And in the early morning, it was as if something woke me.
What do I know? I was alone in the silent room.
Maybe did I heard a shout, your shout ?
Your shout of love in another room ...
You may be asking yourself why I move the knife in the wound.
I also ask me.
So I got up.
I could not sleep, too much pain to sleep.
And suddenly, I saw clearly.
I felt everything that was happening,
I felt in my body what you lived, at this very moment.
On this black screen, it was as if I saw the film that of you lived,
what I did not live with you.
Probably I was unable to.
Probably I was too tired for you.
picture, text, voice, directing Benoît Labourdette