Driver by jakov đinđić

DRIVER

Screenplay by: Igor Gluic

DRIVER First and foremost, Driver is a road film, an episodic love story told through a series of flashes. All the protagonists, including God and Satan are creatures belonging to modern civilization. All of their problems are raised to the highest, bombarding thresholds of modern media. Modern man's veins and arteries are clogged, preventing a fresh flow of nourishing blood. ... This film needs to be fast and have great impact, the acting needs to be fascinatingly precise. The characters have little opportunity for character development as they appear and dissappear quite quickly. It has to be evident automatically as to what they represent. In difference to the bit players, God and Satan are characters whose duel needs to be not only verbal but a battle between actors as well. Casting choices such as: Jack Nicholson as God, John Malkovich as Satan and Goran Visnjic as the Driver, would guarantee a certain hit. ... Possible location for filming are the roads of Arizona along with a fairy tale animated ending. The needs of the producer or director allow for the possibilty of script re-writes and additions of new characters if needed.

This screenplay is registered with the Croatian Bureau of Intellectual Property Protection. No part of this written work may be used in any form without the written consent of the author.

DRIVER SYNOPSIS What would happen when in the back seat of a car, sitting side by side, are God and Satan? When behind the wheel, on an infinite road spinning under the wheels, is a driver that stops for anyone and everyone thumbing for a ride. A doctor and his patient, a theater director and his secretary, fat and skinny female writers, a man that travels everywhere and another that never travels at all, George Bush, an incurable sick person, a drug addict, a prostitute, a homosexual..., an entire gallery of traumatic characters from modern civilization. For the entire journey the driver is subjected to a series of flashbacks, rememberances of the only person he ever loved, and tragically lost; at first a girl and then his girlfriend. His only true life co-traveller on his journey. God and Satan constantly bicker about who's the boss and just who really does control man. All this while the driver picks up and drops off a series of passengers. An old Mercedes with a three pointed star on the engine hood is driving towards the proverbial end of the road. To a place where there does not seem to be anything, the end of it all. But where there is an end there is also a beginning. A new everything. At the end of the journey the driver exits his car and faces everything that could have been in his life, but did not happen. This is followed by one more encounter with the unavoidable protagonists, God and Satan. Finally, that which is most important: the driver confronts the motivating force of the entire journey, his one true love, one final meeting and dissolution. After everything, and after observing his own life once more, for the driver nothing is the same anymore. Before him is a new beginning and the realization that he can take to the road and be on it by himself.

PROLOGUE

FLASHBACK: ADULT MALE AND A LITTLE GIRL. THE ACTION TAKES PLACE NEAR A RUINED BUILDING. THE SAME BUILDING WHERE BOTH WILL MEET, WITH THE HELP OF GOD, AT THE END OF THE STORY. VOICE OVER: She picked up a small branch from a wild rose bush, at its end it extended into two parts. At the tip of each, was one small rose. THE GIRL: When we place them in two small bags, sealing them up with a few flowers of wild thyme...those who love each other will love for life, but only if each one should have the small bag by their side. If one of them loses their bag, their magic will be lost and only memories will remain. Therefore, protect it. If it leaves your side I shall also leave you.

........ Cut ........

FLASHBACKS -- CONTINUOUS Several flashbacks of the companionship between the man (the driver), and small girl. The flashbacks happen while the man is driving. They happen when he is alone and when he is not. They happen at the gas station and at the gas station's diner. The flashbacks appear as random associations accompanied by the spoken words of some voice. In the car they are triggered by things he sees along the road. As the flashbacks progress, the small girl matures into a young woman. ....... The driver hits the brakes and the car comes to a stop. A girl enters the car. No one speaks as they start to drive. After a short while the girl begins speaking.

GIRL: It’s like you’re afraid of girls? The driver glances at her. She continues... GIRL: (CONT'D) I don't think you're afraid. A man that's afraid of girls...whatever. DRIVER: In any case, I'm not afraid of you. (looks at her) DRIVER: Are you...a girl? GIRL: I'm afraid I am, there's no help for me anymore. DRIVER: You wanted to be a boy? GIRL: A MAN! DRIVER: Excuse me. GIRL: It's too late, isn't it? DRIVER: Probably. GIRL: I talk too much. The man does not answer. GIRL: (CONT'D) When I love somebody I just babble DRIVER: You love me? GIRL: I've always liked fathers more than mothers. Of course I don't mean that you're like a father to me,

I just wanted to say how I'm.... DRIVER: There's no need for any special explanations, Ok? The girl nods and falls silent. After a long time the driver breaks the silence. DRIVER: (CONT'D) We never agreed on what I'm to call you? GIRL: Whatever you want. DRIVER: You don't have a name? GIRL: It's too embarrassing, and I don't want to tell it to you. DRIVER: That's a good reason. You can call me by my Christian name. GIRL: Excellent! She keeps quiet for a bit, settling more comfortably in her seat. GIRL: (CONT'D) I need to tell you that you're a good man, even though there are many who think you're bad. DRIVER: Bad, why? GIRL: Because you smoke too much. Because you take way too many medicines. It doesnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t bother me at all. I can't wait to start smoking. DRIVER: Yeah...that's true...I do smoke too much. That other bit isn't true at all...just candy...you want some? GIRL: Of course! He offers some to her and she snatches it out of his hand. He pops one in his mouth. The car

glides on. Their glances meet from time to time and they smile at each other. He pushes a button and the sun roof opens DRIVER: Want me to go faster? GIRL: Oh yes...yes! As the car speeds up the girl lets her hair down and the wind makes her hair flutter like a horizontal waterfall. ...... Cut ......

GIRL: (CONT'D) All my sisters have lovers...I don't. Do you think I'm ugly? DRIVER: I think you're beautiful and that you'll be even more beautiful. GIRL: My nose is big, my ears are floppy and two sets of teeth could fit in my mouth it's so big. The driver laughs. GIRL: (CONT'D) Are you laughing at me? DRIVER: Because you're funny. GIRL: Do you like funny people? DRIVER: Funny people are my friends. GIRL: Am I your friend?

The man laughs but doesn't say anything. GIRL: (CONT'D) (laughing) Do I look grown-up? DRIVER: More like a young tree still weak in its roots. GIRL: And when I grow up? DRIVER: Thunderbolts will strike near your head. The girl thinks for a moment. GIRL: Is that a good thing? DRIVER: Some trees are willing to pay that price. GIRL: What if I grow slowly? DRIVER: You'd be nothing but a common bush! GIRL: What if my roots and crown are equally as strong? DRIVER: Those types of trees are masters of the forest and there is nothing more to say about them. She is satisfied with his answer. GIRL: I wish I was your lover. DRIVER: You are my lover. GIRL: You really feel that way.

DRIVER: Lovers are people who love each other... GIRL: ...and who kiss each other. The man does not answer. GIRL: (CONT'D) So...you love me? DRIVER: Of course I do! GIRL: Ok then. Just make sure that you'll always love me. DRIVER: When you meet in love you usually stay in love. Unless...you don't want to get married...do you? GIRL: NO...but only because I hate priests and all that shit. DRIVER: That's a relief. GIRL: Will you write to me? DRIVER: Lovers always write to each other. GIRL: How often? I'll write you once a month. DRIVER: Yeah...that's good. Once a month is enough. GIRL: "My dearly beloved, I hope we shall meet again. As soon as possible, that I can be yours at last. I started smoking cigarettes." Is that enough? I don't want to go on and on. DRIVER: Yeah...that's enough.

He stops the car at a bus stop. Nobody is waiting there. DRIVER: (CONT'D) Will you let me kiss you in the end? GIRL: (blushing) Well...we are lovers after all. DRIVER: Being someone's lover doesn't mean owning them as well. Lips pursed, she waits for his kiss. She whispers. GIRL: Lips only. He kisses her on the mouth, so gently he hardly touches her. She blushes. As she gets out of the car her lip trembles. She looks like she has just wiped back tears. ..... Cut ..... As she exits the car she looks as if she is about to cry, but she gathers up strength to say: GIRL: (CONT'D) Lovers write to each other. I'll write: "I'm for you and you're for me, we were born for each other." And you'll answer: "there are two of us, but among the stars...we are one." And then I'll answer: "oh my dearest, you are my life, my lover...forever!" Is this ok? Will you write me? DRIVER: Of course, butâ&#x20AC;Ś GIRL: (interrupting him) There's no need to explain. You'll be my lover forever. In the rear view mirror he sees her raising her hand and waving goodbye.

..... Cut ..... The driver stops his car near a telephone booth alongside the road. Surrounding him are fertile fields. Dry grass blows down the road. He dials a number. DRIVER: It's me. GIRL: As if I didn't know. (he hears over the phone) DRIVER: You feel like taking a trip? GIRL: (surprised) A trip with you? DRIVER: That's why I'm calling. GIRL: Yes, yes, yes...but I have to warn you in you might forget! You're a man and I'm a woman. DRIVER: I'll try my best. Like two trains on opposite tracks. Agreed? GIRL: Watch out for the stations... DRIVER: I'm too old for you...I knew it. She hisses at him angrily. … Cut ….

The driver stops at a gas station to tank up. He returns to the car carrying a small bag that he tosses on the dashboard. He doesn’t look at the girl. A scowl lines her face. GIRL: You have a real lack of sensuality there tough guy. DRIVER: Me? Feelings are my strongest side. GIRL: Ha, keep telling yourself that. DRIVER: You’ll see. GIRL: That means there’s a chance. DRIVER: Just wait. GIRL: You know what’s waiting for you? DRIVER: You growing up. GIRL: How long will that take? DRIVER: …. GIRL: A week? DRIVER: … GIRL: Two? DRIVER: …. GIRL: A whole month for heaven’s sakes?

DRIVER: Oh, almost forget this…. The driver grabs the bag from the dashboard. DRIVER: Everything you asked for: gum, balloons, lollipops… The girl sticks her tongue out and eagerly rips the bag from his hands. …. Cut … She places her head on his chest. She listens to the even beating of his heart. Her heart was beating quicker. DRIVER: (CONT'D) You're my youngest sister. GIRL: I was afraid of that. He laughs. DRIVER: Why? GIRL: How much younger...I need to know? DRIVER: Enough that I need to take care of you. GIRL: Like...to be my father? DRIVER: Not really. Their glances meet. She is confused at first, and her heart skips from fright. DRIVER: (CONT'D) What would you like to be?

GIRL: Me? DRIVER: When you grow up that is. She doesn't know what to say. DRIVER: What about a brown squirrel? She laughs loudly. He sees all her teeth for the first time. ..... Cut ..... Repeating DRIVER: (CONT'D) What would you like to be? GIRL: Me? She doesn't know what to say. DRIVER: What about a brown squirrel? She laughs loudly. He sees all her teeth for the first time. GIRL: Why a brown squirrel? DRIVER: I once read about the life cycle of a brown squirrel... GIRL: And, what did it say? Tell me! DRIVER: They are very inquisitive and can't resist a thing. They are extremely timid, running away from everything. No one can hold them or tame them.

GIRL: You're saying that's me? DRIVER: The other half of a human being, that some people miss. GIRL: You miss me? DRIVER: Everyone searches... GIRL: (repeating herself) You miss me? He doesn't answer. She smiles and asks. GIRL: (CONT'D) Has anyone ever caught one? DRIVER: Everyone tries to at least once in life. She looks out the window and changes the subject. GIRL: Tell me...what's it like over there? DRIVER: Where? GIRL: At the end of the road? DRIVER: ....I donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t know. I've never been there? She laughs and strokes his chest. GIRL: You told me... DRIVER: What I said was this - those who had been there at least once never stop thinking about it.

GIRL: You said that you had been there, I know you did. Do you remember when that street photographer took our picture? I'll cut you out of them...only your shadow will walk with me. ..... Cut ..... Repeating: GIRL: (CONT'D) Do you remember when that street photographer took our picture? He nods his head. GIRL: (CONT'D) I cut you out of those pictures. Now only your shadow walks with me. DRIVER: Did I do something wrong? GIRL: You promised to write and you never did? DRIVER: I wrote you from every town. GIRL: I never received a letter from you. DRIVER: I never sent them. She fall's silent, offended. After a short while she speaks. GIRL: Are you like this with every woman? DRIVER: Yes. GIRL: So you've never been in love?

DRIVER: Who? Me? I've never been in love? Every waking moment I'm a man in love. Even this second, I can't wait to get to the next town to see the object of my love. GIRL: She's waiting for you? DRIVER: She's definitely waiting for me, that's for sure...but I don't know her yet. If I actually knew her maybe I wouldn't love her so much. GIRL: Does she love you? DRIVER: It's easy to make a woman love. Even easier when the man is attractive. She sighs and bats her eyelids GIRL: ...and you sure are handsome (laughing) ..... Cut ..... Sighing and batting her eyelids GIRL: (CONT'D) ...and you sure are handsome. DRIVER: Do you see those lights over there? She turns in the direction of the lights. DRIVER: (CONT'D) A beautiful woman is sleeping there. That's my girlfriend. She sleeps and maybe I'll never meet her. Does that seem sad to you?

GIRL: Men know nothing about women. Every magazine says so. DRIVER: Do you know what women are? GIRL: Look who is going to tell me... DRIVER: Women are like ripe watermelons. For the personthat walks over, cuts a slice and bites in...if she's really sweet he knocks her over and that's it....that's it! GIRL: (to herself) The next time I get into someone's car the driver better be deaf and mute. ..... Cut ..... DRIVER: Women are like ripe watermelons. For the one that walks over, cuts a slice and bites in...if she's really sweet he knocks her over and that's it....that's it! He laughs and she gets angry. GIRL: You know what you jerk! Assholes like you suck up all the sweetness, leaving just the rind and pits. I'm not one of those types. (affectionately) I'm not one of those types. DRIVER: You’re a dreamer? GIRL: That’s right jerkoff, I’m a dreamer. DRIVER: (interrupting) Didn't you say that you never dream?

GIRL: Don't interrupt me! DRIVER: You definitely said so...not very consistent are we now? GIRL: I did say that, but… DRIVER: No buts… GIRL: I said, but....OK! Sometimes I dream about men...I dream about men who remove the pits and enjoy the sweetness with me. DRIVER: Really? GIRL: (defiantly with crossed arms) YES!!! The driver stops the car at a crossroads, he looks around and then turns. The moss covered road narrows. Ripped up tree roots cover the road. Here and there young trees are growing from the asphalt in the middle of the road GIRL: (CONT'D) What's happening? DRIVER: ...just watch... GIRL: What's happening here? ..... Cut ..... DRIVER: Just watch.

GIRL: (whispering) What's happening? What's that in your hands? DRIVER: Easy now. A wild rose branch falls out of his hand. GIRL: Small roses... DRIVER: Don't ask. ..... Cut ..... They drive on. DRIVER: (CONT'D) How are you GIRL: Sad. DRIVER: Why? GIRL: I did a nasty thing. DRIVER: What? GIRL: I boasted too much. DRIVER: About what? GIRL: That I slept with you. The driver sighs deeply.

DRIVER: And what else am I going to hear from you? GIRL: If it was at least true. DRIVER: If what was at least true? She doesn't answer him. She curls back into her seat and stares out the window. DRIVER: (CONT'D) Don't you understand? I'm so much older than you. GIRL: I don't care! DRIVER: Let me tell you something. I was married once. If we had had children they'd be twice your age. GIRL: What then? DRIVER: What, what then? You bragged to all your girlfriends about how you slept with me? GIRL: I just wanted them to be jealous. He laughs and can't stop laughing. GIRL: (CONT'D) You're missing out on a lot you know. DRIVER: Did you tell your girlfriends this as well? GIRL: I'm saying it to you. He lifts his hands from the wheel as if he is surrendering, as if left without an argument. GIRL: (CONT'D) On the radio they're saying no snow for Christmas.

The driver turns on the radio. A Christmas song is playing. GIRL: (CONT'D) It's no fun without snow. DRIVER: Tons of things can be done...not just fun things. You could find a boyfriend to start. There is silence in the car for a long time. Only a quiet Christmas carol can be heard. She jumps into the driverâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s seat jamming her foot on the gas. The Mercedes spins wildly down the road, coming to a wild stop on a dusty extension. DRIVER: (CONT'D) (furious) You're crazy...completely crazy! She opens the car door and rushes out. GIRL: YOU FAGGOT!!!!! The driver stays behind the wheel. DRIVER: Excuse me? GIRL: Remember me in your will, faggot! He rushes out of the car and seizes her by the hand. DRIVER: Excuse me? She looks him in the eyes, lips trembling. She lets him embrace her. They return to the car. Christmas songs are still playing on the radio. In the distance a funeral procession was passing by an isolated church...he slows down the car. GIRL: Both my mother and father died within a week of each other. Fresh flowers replaced fresh flowers. When I was cold, I kept warm next to their picture on the cross... DRIVER: (interrupting) You're making that up!

GIRL: Yes. DRIVER: Anything else you need to say? GIRL: First off, I'm not a small girl! I have a rare illness, the cells in my body don't age. In reality, I'm just a little bit younger than you. And I was married once. He laughs. When he notices how she is staring at him he becomes serious. DRIVER: You're quite courageous! GIRL: I keep my courage for other occasions. Anyone ever tell you that you have a stone heart? DRIVER: Yeah...a friend that wanted to borrow my car. Rolling her eyes she furiously pulls at her robe. The city lights reflect against the car. GIRL: You think you're way too hard a nut for me to crack. If I were a crow I'd let you fall from the sky and break you on a rock. DRIVER: But you're just a small bird of prey. Her eyes pierce him. A short time later he stops the car directly under a shining street lamp. DRIVER: (CONT'D) Good night! GIRL: No kiss good night? DRIVER: I didn't think we were at that point yet. GIRL: Don't be stupid...life is offering you a great chance...

He laughs along with her. She leans in and kisses him. Her lips are soft and fragrant. She does not embrace him. GIRL: (CONT'D) I don't blame you. You're so cool... DRIVER: And you're still a child. How old are you? Sixteen? GIRL: Twice that! DRIVER: No way. GIRL: Why do you look so sad? DRIVER: Why would I be sad? GIRL: Whenever I leave you are sad. DRIVER: As far as I know I'm not sad. GIRL: You should tell me more about yourself. I NEED to know why you're so sad. DRIVER: Leave now you wild child! GIRL: Don't you understand what's between us? He laughs, shaking his head while watching her. DRIVER: What? Tell me. GIRL: Roulette, Russian Roulette! DRIVER: And what do you know about Russian Roulette?

GIRL: My grandfather ended up just like this. DRIVER: (interrupting her angrily) PLEASE GO! GIRL: Ok, I'll go. But watch out, this is only the beginning. She laughs loudly. Laughing at the driver, while walking down the road. As she walks down the road images of the girl changing into a beautiful young woman dissolve one over the other. The last image is the well formed hips of a young woman. ..... Cut ..... A MUSICIAN ON THE ROAD Like a small arrow, the car drives through an immense landscape. The driver stretches, listening. DRIVER: Do you hear music? GIRL: Shhhhh! DRIVER: (whispering) Do you hear it? GIRL: It's wonderful. After a while the driver stops his car near a musician along the road. He lowers the window. DRIVER: You play nicely, player. VITO - PLAYER: Thank you. DRIVER: What's your name?

VITO - PLAYER: Vito. I'm a zither player. DRIVER: Where did you learn these songs? VITO - PLAYER: Some of them I wrote myself DRIVER: And the others? VITO - PLAYER: They are the old songs of my people. DRIVER: Who are your people? VITO - PLAYER: Just wanderers who live along the road. DRIVER: Why along the road? VITO - PLAYER: We don't have any other refuge. We destroyed our houses and temples. DRIVER: But why live on the road? VITO - PLAYER: Because only in front of the road do we bow. The flaming hooves of our ancestorâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s horses are in its dust. When the sun burns the red hot asphalt, the heat of the road frees itself - entering our noses and setting fire to our brains. This always draws us to the road, in this way we are closest to our ancestors. DRIVER: Continue playing Vito. VITO - PLAYER: I will. I usually only play in the morning. Waking at four and playing till dawn.

DRIVER: Why so early? VITO - PLAYER: Promise you won't laugh? DRIVER: Of course. VITO - PLAYER: I play so early because the world is unhappy and lonely. DRIVER: It's lonely after daybreak too. VITO - PLAYER: In the bustle no one notices. DRIVER: It'd be worth trying. Vito smiles sadly. VITO - PLAYER: Play during the day? I don't know, it could be dangerous. The asphalt is too hot and flames are too close to freedom. DRIVER: Danger isn't a reason to give up. What were you playing before? VITO - PLAYER: A song of my people. DRIVER: What's it called? VITO - PLAYER: "Searching the Woods for my Howling Dog" Do you like it? DRIVER: Play it again, Vito. Vito plays on....

..... Cut ..... TWO OLDER PASSENGERS ENTER THE CAR Each passenger is standing on the opposite side of the road. To the driver it seems that each has been hitchhiking on their respective side of the road. He stops the car and both enter the car. Each from his side of the road OLD MAN #1 Whenever I'm on the road I see you. You travel much? DRIVER: I don't remember the last time I spent several days in one place. OLD MAN #1 You arrive recently? DRIVER: This morning. OLD MAN #1 And how do you like it? DRIVER: Like what? OLD MAN #1 This place. DRIVER: I haven't thought about it. OLD MAN #1 I mean, do you like it...at first glance? DRIVER: I said that I haven't thought about it. I just pass through places leaving them alone. OLD MAN #1 Places don't impress you?

DRIVER: As much as I impress them I suppose. Do you find funny those men that walk and turn around all the time - like they forgot something or like they're being chased by a spy? OLD MAN #1 I don't know. Maybe they are just walking, remembering something. DRIVER: I'm more thrilled with what I don't know. OLD MAN #1 It's human nature to want to experience the unknown. DRIVER: Do you think you've ever been acquainted with a woman that you would be able to fully describe after seeing her just once in passing? OLD MAN #1 What do you do? DRIVER: Nothing. OLD MAN #1 You have worked? DRIVER: Never. OLD MAN #1 How do you earn a living? DRIVER: In such a way that I shit money. OLD MAN #1 Do you have a family? DRIVER: People like me don't have families. OLD MAN #1 Do you believe in God?

DRIVER: Why are you bringing God into this? OLD MAN #1 Everyone says a prayer from time to time. He senses weakness and offers help...just that...nothing more. DRIVER: You think I need help? OLD MAN #1 Don't take it too personally! We all live in darkness from time to time and need help. DRIVER: Blood in our veins is an everlasting darkness and doesn't need help. OLD MAN #1 You're a poet DRIVER: Why a poet? OLD MAN #1 Poet...you're a poet...don't hide it. DRIVER: Is it important? Do you pray to God? OLD MAN #1 No. I don't know how to pray. But I'd be lying if I said that I didn't wish for help from time to time. DRIVER: For what? OLD MAN #1 For troubles, what else? DRIVER: Troubles come and go by themselves...all without God's help. OLD MAN #1 The road is narrowing driver, watch out. The driver looks at him in the rear-view mirror. The second old man begins to speak.

OLD MAN #2 When I was young I sailed all the continents, and all the seas. While sailing through South America we crept into the deepest backwaters - to the remotest ports in the jungle. Over the course of a day ocean waters would be replaced by an ocean of trees. At some parts of the river the ship passed through such cuttings that we had to push off the bank - branches from shallow waters jabbed out like knives. At just such a place I saw... (falling silent) OLD MAN #1 What did you see? OLD MAN #2 Snakes. OLD MAN #1 You didn't need to go all the way to South America to see snakes. OLD MAN #2 The snakes that live there don't let their pray get away just like that. Once they start pursuing they never give up. They were seen in the estuaries, and on the open sea where they caught their victims. In such a pursuit they hid their poison under a stone. Their poison doesn't act in water, it becomes diluted...that's why they hide it under stones. And wherever they come out they find out easily their treasure, and then bring it back to its placeâ&#x20AC;Ś But the snake would sometimes find out the stone, but not its treasure under it ... Some wild animal would pay for its curiosity. The snakes know that they are nothing without their venom. Only a switch in the grass, only a shadow gliding among the leaves. Therefore, they make use of the only solution. They raise their body vertically into the air, imagining how an unknown thief squatted on the top of a stone, and then come running with all the strength of their muscles in the direction of their own shadow, until both heads unite themselves in a big red stain. Sailors used to say, the older ones, that every wild animal that passes afterwards by the stone marked with a dark stain of blood, halts â&#x20AC;Ś and every sailor who spots such a stone from the deck, ceases to work

for a moment .. The inhabitants in South America respect these stones, equally as the tombstones of their ancestors. They are all silent for a time. The first old man speaks: OLD MAN #1 There's a long road before you, driver. DRIVER: Why do you think I'm going a long way? Maybe I'll turn around at the first traffic light? OLD MAN #1 Oh no, you're not that type. DRIVER: You think so? OLD MAN #1 You're the type that always goes to the end of the road. DRIVER: What's there...at the end? The old man smiles sadly. OLD MAN #1 Don't make me laugh with such questions. What's at the end of a vein? Presumably, the heart. STOP HERE PLEASE! What a mark on the road. I dreamed the exact same tree, like a road exclamation mark. The driver brakes quickly and the car swerves before stopping. Both men leave the car tipping their hats and bowing as a sign of respect. ..... Cut ..... The girl buys a newspaper from a man weaving his way through a throng of cars at a traffic light. Turning the pages she reacts to something shocking. GIRL: Did you see this?

NEWSPAPER VENDOR: I don't read newspapers. I see enough here on the streets. GIRL: Just listen... NEWSPAPER VENDOR: Just the title. If you read the rest then rubbish gains immortality. GIRL: (reading) "Near a gas station a zither player was run over by a car. A statement from the driver revealed that he was so enchanted by the music that he did not notice the musician alongside the road. The unfortunate musician was sitting on the road's edge with flames gushing out of him, playing as he burned. The sad driver, a local musician himself, recognized the song the unfortunate victim was playing: The song in question is called Searching the Woods for my Howling Dog - The accident took place at 2:30 p.m." Miles passed on in complete silence. The girl reads something else in the newspaper. RAIPUR/India Doctors are fighting for the life of a young girl born with her heart on the palm of her right hand. Doctor S.K. Pambhoi announced that the heart needs to be removed and placed in its proper location. A few more miles pass when she reads on…. RAIPUR/India – Two days later The young girl died due to an infection of the heart. The girl’s parents were unable to pay for the operation, and the girl died with her heart on the palm of her hand. … Cut …

TWO MORE PASSENGERS In the back seat are two new passengers: a timid, young girl and an older man. MAN: You are...a small monkey!

YOUNG GIRL: Now I'm a monkey too. A moment ago I was an angler, a wild hog, a brown squirrel. The driver stares at them in the rear view mirror. YOUNG GIRL: (CONT'D) What else am I going to be for God's sake? MAN: I'll remember... YOUNG GIRL: Something nice, I hope? The young girl wipes her eyes with a tissue she takes out of her bag. YOUNG GIRL: (CONT'D) Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m sorry. MAN: And what did you think I could tell you? She keeps silent. MAN: (CONT'D) Are you all right? She shakes her head, every muscle on her face speaks for itself. YOUNG GIRL: One more word and I'll start crying. MAN: Why? YOUNG GIRL: This conversation is a spinning carousel. If I grab hold of something I'll puke. MAN: I just want to know: where are you from, why are you different from all the others and what scares you? Do you know how to speak...write, paint, sing...do you know how to love? She stares silently at her feet. Crossing one over the other.

MAN: (CONT'D) Well? The young girl keeps silent. MAN: (CONT'D) This is funny. Funny and serious. I'll ask easier questions if you want? Maybe that'll help? She says nothing. MAN: (CONT'D) Going to hold your tongue until the end of the road? YOUNG GIRL: Do you want the correct answer in the form of a bark, or wag of my tail? MAN: Look at the devil, you speak again. She places her hand on the small of her back and waves it like a tail. MAN: (CONT'D) You want to speak after all. YOUNG GIRL: (angrily) I don't want questions! MAN: Talking without questions? YOUNG GIRL: I don't want questions. MAN: Will you try to escape if I ask you anything else? YOUNG GIRL: Animals follow their instincts. MAN: Even if I have good reason? YOUNG GIRL: Animals don't understand reasoning.

MAN: For heaven's sake...you've lived in a family haven't you? YOUNG GIRL: Like a guinea pig. MAN: So...any mention of family is off limits? YOUNG GIRL: No! MAN: Afraid you'll be mocked? The same way your family mocked you? How the people you called friends mocked you? And like those who you loved mocked you... YOUNG GIRL: You don't know anything... MAN: You're sincere...but just a part of you. The part you show in daylight when you laugh, talk about sex, school, hemorrhoids, parents, your clit. I experience every one of your words through the hell of a re-experienced chastity. I thought I had met a divine being, an angel who misplaced her wings...when I saw your wings I saw why you can't fly. They're nailed to the pillow of your fragility. Every word you speak ties them down more and more. When I saw this I truly saw how far away from me you truly are, the depth of your insincerity. YOUNG GIRL: I don't want to talk about that. MAN: You don't want!?!? I DON'T WANT TO SPEAK ABOUT IT!! It's for you to decide. YOUNG GIRL: To decide what? MAN: To be sincere.

YOUNG GIRL: I've never been untruthful with you. MAN: You didn't realize that you were. I'm a mirror in which you tried to see a more beautiful self. You want to prove something, to grow up...young girls always want to grow up quickly. You're not attentive, imprudent...a door opened slightly and you were unable to grab its handle. YOUNG GIRL: I wasn't insincere with you. Say anything you want but you can't say I wasn't honest with you because... MAN: Because? YOUNG GIRL: Nothing. MAN: Because you've grown fond of me? YOUNG GIRL: If love lived in words, clever people would possess it all. But that isn't so, am I right? She turns and becomes silent. The man sighs like a wild animal. ..... Cut ..... LOVERS (New passengers) The new passengers care little for the driver. Smiling, they touch each other. They like to talk as if they have an audience. The female passenger, from time to time, casts a glance at the rear view mirror where reflections of the Driver's eyes are caught. (Bits of dialogue)

FEMALE LOVER: How's the midget? MALE LOVER: Why don't you ask him? FEMALE LOVER: I'm not sure he still likes me. MALE LOVER: Oh, he does! Today especially! FEMALE LOVER: You think so? MALE LOVER: Positive! He'd be more than happy to talk to you. FEMALE LOVER: He told you this? MALE LOVER: Don't let him talk too much, he chokes up. He'll convince you how good a worker he is if you give him the chance. FEMALE LOVER: He's dear to me already. And you're sure he likes me? MALE LOVER: Give me your hand? (jams her hand between his legs) Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s like greeting Mussolini? ..... Cut ..... A YOUNG MAN AND HIS GIRL FRIEND YOUNG MAN: We could leave tomorrow. GIRL FRIEND: (raising her head in surprise ) What do you mean?

YOUNG MAN: We could if he were dead GIRL FRIEND: Jesus Christ...what are you talking about? YOUNG MAN: Just think about it...eighty thousand euros in cash. GIRL FRIEND: You took it again? YOUNG MAN: What? GIRL FRIEND: Don't be naive with me, you know very well what I'm getting at. YOUNG MAN: (gazing out the window) I don't want to speak about this right now. GIRL FRIEND: It concerns me too. YOUNG MAN: I didn't force you. It's my business, only mine. GIRL FRIEND: Not just yours. You were another man before, just a little more crazy. YOUNG MAN: And you weren't crazy? GIRL FRIEND: Just about you, I was crazy about you. YOUNG MAN: You don't really love me anymore. GIRL FRIEND: That's true, I don't love you as much. The way you are now you're not close to me at all. YOUNG MAN: Shit!

GIRL FRIEND: What? YOUNG MAN: I said...shit! GIRL FRIEND: I don't understand. YOUNG MAN: Forget it! GIRL FRIEND: Forget what? YOUNG MAN: Fair play...well, nothing. GIRL FRIEND: (losing her temper) What fucking fair play? You kill everything around you - the team, the goalie, the referee, the public. Everyone with and without a damn ball. And you mention fair play? YOUNG MAN: You can't talk to me like that. GIRL FRIEND: Shut up! YOUNG MAN: Calm down...for heaven's sake what's the matter with you? GIRL FRIEND: (gazing through the back seat window) You goddamn shit YOUNG MAN: Hey look, crusaders are all around (pointing with his finger) The holy land is everywhere and this eighty thousand is a big dick for them. Just a big dick, don't you see? They wear white gloves on their hands so the blood their stained with can't be seen, that you don't mind but a little dirt on my nose gets you crazy. Every time they want to touch and caress my head they take off their clean white

gloves and I can't stand it anymore. (crying into his hands) I can't let them finally kill me...help me...help me ..... Cut .....

A YOUNG MAN A GIRL (THE SAME PASSENGERS - ANOTHER PICTURE) The driver is sitting in his car at the gas station parking lot. A couple, a drunk man and a girl, pass by a parked truck. The driver recognizes them as passengers he drove shortly before. The young man holds a bottle of something in his hands. Another young man comes along, the young drunk man frees himself from the young girl's embrace and staggers towards the other man. GIRL FRIEND: NO! YOUNG MAN: (staring the other man directly in the face) C'mon pussy! OTHER MAN: I'm not gonna fight you. YOUNG MAN: Not even when I tell you how I fuck your little girl? OTHER MAN: That's her business. YOUNG MAN: You know what...the little cunt was just a useless piece of pussy. OTHER MAN: I'm not gonna fight you. YOUNG MAN: Because you're a little fag, she couldn't learn a thing from a fag like you. It's all different now, with me she's become a real cock swallower.

OTHER MAN: I already told you I'm not going to fight. Provoking me just proves your stupidity. The young man takes a swing with the bottle, he loses his balance and falls to the ground, passing out instantly. OTHER MAN: (CONT'D) (addressing the young girl) I hope you found what you were looking for. I told you that his bitch mother cooked up something nasty by not aborting him. Just keep on thinking like this. Only a rat can love a rat. That's a dark seed. It's over....is it nice with him? GIRL FRIEND: I don't want to speak about it. OTHER MAN: Do you talk to yourself about it? GIRL FRIEND: Go away please! OTHER MAN: Of course! The other man goes on his way. She kneels down and embraces the drunk, young man on the ground. His shoulders tremble. She pats him on the back as he wakes up. GIRL FRIEND: Calm down, calm down. YOUNG MAN: (trembling) I'm crazy, crazy. GIRL FRIEND: Shhh!!! Calm down, please. YOUNG MAN: It's all in vain...I get the shakes or I fight. GIRL FRIEND: We need to free ourselves from weakness easily recognized by evil.

YOUNG MAN: (crying) Whenever I try to free myself it always catches up with me. GIRL FRIEND: What catches up with you? YOUNG MAN: The thing that's in me... GIRL FRIEND: Calm down YOUNG MAN: When it finds me it takes me over, but even stronger. I can't breathe, it squeezes everything in me - my lungs, my veins. The only way to avoid suffocating is to howl with all my strength. Totally pointless, the good pushes out and the evil pushes in twice as hard. And I howl until I become afraid of myself and not to mention the voice. GIRL FRIEND: Voice. What voice? YOUNG MAN: A voice that begins to let loose...it struggles within me. Like when you suck in helium and your voice shrieks as if youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re getting a stroke. She caresses him and he continues to cry. ..... Cut ..... GAS STATION PARKING LOT - NEW PASSENGERS (A MOTHER AND HER SON) MOTHER: Sweetheart. SON: Don't call me that...Pleeeeease!

MOTHER: Sorry, I don't want to hurt you. Just tell...just like you told me and everything will be okay. I guarantee it, just talk to him. SON: Nothing's going to be ok and you know it. MOTHER: You talk so easy with me...the letter you wrote me was so nice. When I showed it to him... SON: (surprised) What? The mother bites her lower lip. SON: (CONT'D) You showed him my letter? You showed him what I only told to you? MOTHER: He's not against you sweety, your dad loves you... SON: Oh god. MOTHER: He asked - if what you said was true? He thinks... SON: What does he think? MOTHER: He loves you, he loves you very much. SON: How? How can one love so much? MOTHER: You're not being fair at all. SON: Did he not leave me when I was just a little grub, to crawl my own way? MOTHER: He wasn't ready.

SON: Of course not. He didn't believe that among all his imprints I had found an inch of earth for my feet. MOTHER: (looking at the floor) Can't you just sometimes control yourself? SON: I'm sorry...oh my lord. The mother raises her head as her son deeply sighs. SON: (CONT'D) Oh my lord MOTHER: What's the matter? SON: This shell doesn't allow me to tell everything that I should. How does one get loose from his control? MOTHER: Whose? SON: From the one who controls everything? From the concentration camp master? We're all alone momma - you're alone, I'm alone, dad's alone. God is also alone as is everything he created, we grope one another like blind men in the dark. And in this darkness when we feel someone similar, someone that cares more than just of himself the remaining blind men feel abandoned. One pair of hands less to grope them! MOTHER: It shouldn't be like this. SON: Life eludes our wishes! MOTHER: You speak like this because you've given up the fight. You chose an easy way out because you've abandoned your qualities and from this bad news always comes.

SON: A bad choice is still a choice. You're afraid that I might be crazy. If I am, what then? Craziness has always been sought after. Some believe that craziness is a higher form of being. MOTHER: I don't eat, I don't breathe, I don't talk to anybody...I only wonder: are you that boy of mine? This man that I look at? SON: And? MOTHER: I don't know the answer. SON: The same question troubles me. MOTHER: You were a wonder child, overwhelmed with praise. You were given a grant for talent children, as a student you won many awards...you played, performed, sang...you associated with exceptional people, you had a girlfriend, you were.... SON: I was everything mother, everything...until I saw Peter's ass, that's what you want to say? MOTHER: The problem is I don't know what to say anymore. The whole world's a riddle when I watch you rolling in the mud with perverts, rejecting every connection with normal life. And for what? SON: Do you remember Ralph? That friend of mine from grammar school. Do you remember him? If you don't, then you'll definitely remember the morning when father removed the piano cover in a fury. (he jumps in his seat imitating his father) DON'T BRING HIM TO THIS HOUSE ANYMORE! Do you remember? I DON'T WANT HIS ASS TOUCHING THIS COUCH EVER AGAIN! Do you remember or have you

erased it from your memory like everything else that stains the memory of a small boy. Just so you know the fine feathers of my talents tickled his ass as well. MOTHER: Oh god, just listen to you! The son just stares at her. MOTHER: (CONT'D) Stop it! Don't you see your life fading, sinking in irony and sarcasm. All you have, all that was sacred to you until yesterday has been placed on the altar of your perverse needs. SON: Of finally! MY NEEDS MOTHER, MY NEEDS! You finally said it: my needs! The mother covers her face with her hands. SON: (CONT'D) Do you know what Peter and I talk about after sex? MOTHER: Stop it! SON: Mother?! MOTHER: You hid yourself from all of us, from the family. To be original at any price, that was your goal. I could help you, I still canâ&#x20AC;Ś SON: Let me tell you something. We talk about the same things you and father talked about. MOTHER: What you've created, this life of yours...its monstrous. SON: We talk about the fact that not a day in life passes where someone doesn't want to create a new

self...and why? We are all chased by missed opportunities, dreaming about ourselves as we could have been, like those who don't repeat the same mistakes. I'm a rarity on this planet, I don't want to be someone new, avoiding his own weaknesses. I want to explode into a hundred copies of myself...doing exactly what I do! Do you still see me as your little boy, or as a monster with a stolen face? MOTHER: Shut up! SON: Do you know where we wrestled mother dear? Where the ring of our thrills is? MOTHER: (sobbing) Stop it! SON: Mother? MOTHER: Stop it, stop it...please. SON: In my father's bed, mother! MOTHER: (screams) Aaahhhh! SON: I didn't want to soil his sheets so I came on his pillow...in father's feathers. He was filling it all his life, feather by feather, day in day out, removing them from the wings of his sinless life. Now on each feather he has a dried and wrinkled descendent. Her head drops to her chest. Her son yawns. Empty air escapes his throat and there is nobody to listen to him. When he sees that his mother has lost consciousness he snatches his coat and leaves the car without closing the door behind him. The driver is worried as the mother is not moving, when he extends his hand she pulls herself up and turns towards him. She is not sad anymore, she looks proud, holding her head very high. The driver is confused.

DRIVER: Excuse me, I thought... MOTHER: What did you think? DRIVER: I don't know myself... The mother steps out of the car and walks away without turning back. ----Cut ----WIFE AND HUSBAND As they enter the car they are holding hands. Their smiles like permanent imprints. They are talking quietly, barely audible – like the sound of honey dripping. WIFE: We’re going to buy spinach. HUSBAND: And milk? WIFE: And fish too? HUSBAND: We also need to buy lemon. WIFE: For the fish? HUSBAND: Enough to make lemonade too. They both laugh. HUSBAND: We’ll eat everything. WIFE: We won’t leave a crumb.

HUSBAND: Not even the lemonade. WIFE: Not even the lemonade. HUSBAND: The cookies we’ll save for the end. WIFE: I almost forgot about the cookies. They lean towards one another, touching cheek to cheek – their faces shinier than an angel’s portrait on a gingerbread heart. … Cut ….

GAS STATION DINER The driver stops the car in front of a motel and gets out. He enters a diner and sits at an empty table. The waitress moves quickly, gliding among the tables like a snake. She approaches the table near his and takes an order. The cook at the bar makes a sandwich, lathering it abundantly with mayonnaise, salad and ketchup and warms it in the oven. He holds it out to the waitress. After a while, she brings it back to him, saying: WAITRESS: Heat it up, he wants it hot! COOK: Hot? WAITRESS: (snapping her chewing gum) That's how he wants it! The cook takes the sandwich, sits on it and farts vigorously. COOK: Here you go! The waitress, without looking back, takes the sandwich and carries it off to the table where she took the order. She waits for a moment until the guest bites into the sandwich and nods approvingly … The guest at the nearby table cancels his order. At this very moment, a younger lady enters the restaurant, slamming the door behind her. As soon as she sees the

gentleman who succulently had bitten the sandwich a moment ago she sits beside him. The gentleman hardly acknowledges at her, remarking without stopping chewing... GENTLEMAN: What kind of warrior makeup did you paint on your face? WOMAN: He hit me. GENTLEMAN: I thought you said you weren't seeing him anymore. WOMAN: I just dropped in to get some things. GENTLEMAN: Exactly when you knew he'd be there. WOMAN: It's my apartment too. GENTLEMAN: Did you fuck? WOMAN: You're disgusting. (she lights a cigarette and takes a drag) He can't do it anymore. GENTLEMAN: (lazily chewing his sandwich) He's on a diet? WOMAN: It's worse than ever. GENTLEMAN: Can I offer you half a sandwich. WOMAN: No, thank you. (wiping back a tear) He behaves like I'm his property. GENTLEMAN: Once conquered, ownership is forever. This is our male conquering vow.

WOMAN: He's insulting me. He thinks I screw everyone that looks at me. GENTLEMAN: And that's not true, isn't it? WOMAN: I beg your pardon. GENTLEMAN: I mean...it isn't true that you gladly throw yourself under the big bellies of other men? WOMAN: Your humor doesn't amuse me at all. GENTLEMAN: Well then. What are you going to do? WOMAN: I don't know, that's why I'm telling all this to you. What do you think? GENTLEMAN: I don't exactly enjoy the reputation of being a good counselor. WOMAN: (crushes out her cigarrette) I won't allow him to step all over me. GENTLEMAN: I'd be happy to help you, really, but I don't know how. Maybe, you should sue him? She waves at him dismissively. GENTLEMAN: (CONT'D) Hmmm, then I really don't know. WOMAN: I'll kill him. GENTLEMAN: (pointing at her with his sandwich filled hand) That could be called revenge.

WOMAN: I'm going to kill him, seriously. GENTLEMAN: It's clear that it's too late for Olympic rules. WOMAN: Besides...he's disgusting. GENTLEMAN: How disgusting? WOMAN: Don't act so surprised. You saw him - double chin, stomach, short fat legs... GENTLEMAN: A double chin, stomach and short fat legs you say...such specimen don't deserve a better fate. WOMAN: Stop shitting me! He continues eating his sandwich, wipes his mouth and neatly folds his napkin. He gazes directly into the young woman's eyes while cleaning the remains of lodged food between his teeth with this tongue. GENTLEMAN: Until recently you didn't mind his stomach or the hairs sticking out of his ears and nose. WOMAN: Until recently, until recently... GENTLEMAN: In the mist of evaporated sweat a man appears in all of his nudity. A hairy creature with a double chin, stomach, short fat legs...probably dirty and with bad breath. A creature who waves the dirt from between his toes under his nose, inhaling it deep into his lungs like a fragrant perfume. WOMAN: Stop it! GENTLEMAN: Why? Like you never noticed before the hairs growing in his nose, ears, from his knuckles, and

probably from his cock. That his chest and back were real bushes. If you would have noticed that earlier you could have called a gardener to manicure him. WOMAN: You're disgusting. GENTLEMAN: How didn't it repulse you earlier? Although, I have read of instances where young girls, with a sense of humor of course, gladly lay under such a specimen. WOMAN: You truly are disgusting. GENTLEMAN: You haven't answered me. WOMAN: What haven't I answered? I was sixteen fucking years old when I met him. What could I have known? WHAT? That he was an animal because he could fuck like a beast twenty four hours a day? GENTLEMAN: Don't you see? WOMAN: What...don't you see? GENTLEMAN: He knew what he wanted and he acted the part. That was your choice of a knight. A knight of sexual prowess, and not one of pleasant appearances and gentlemanly habits. Until you met him your mother used to take off and pull down your pants before going to bed and now you want to kill him because you got wet thinking about other men. Is that what you want to say? She gets up from her chair and heads for the exit. She halts and cynically remarks. WOMAN: Thank you very much, you're a real friend. If you really want to know... (hesitating)

...you've always been a selfish little pig with a small dick. GENTLEMAN: I'm sorry I can't be of greater help. WOMAN: Be sorry because of your destiny, you idiot! GENTLEMAN: Anyway...thanks for dropping in. (looking at himself in a small pocket mirror he took out of his pocket) Give me some advice before you go...what should I shave with? Blade or electric? She slams the door behind her, much stronger than when she had entered.

FLASH TO A SITUATION HAPPENING NEARBY

A girl is returning from the toilet, dancing through the tables. GIRL: I wrote a poem for you while I was sitting on the toilet. Listen: I court one person only, and he is my king. I make fun of one person only, and that is also my king. Nobody is his equal, not even the greatest of magicians. And now I say to him: Excuse me for being late my King, but I am now here forever. I heard your voice and in the end...you are my king! - Do you like it? The driver laughs. DRIVER: A poet! GIRL: I don't like poets and I don't like artists...they're worthless. (whispering) This is a prayer if you didn't already know! DRIVER: Sorry I underestimated you.

GIRL: It's never too late. Artists give me the shits. The driver shrugs. The girl sits on the table, supporting her chin with the palms of her hands. GIRL: (CONT'D) You didn't know that artists get on my nerves? DRIVER: Me too. GIRL: Really? DRIVER: Yes! GIRL: Why you? DRIVER: You first. GIRL: Well... DRIVER: First...sit in a chair. She sticks her tongue out at him. When she sits he asks her. DRIVER: (CONT'D) Now tell me, why do artists get on your nerves? GIRL: Whenever they speak, write or paint...whenever they make out as if nobody else has done what they've done. They want to persuade us, to think they are like small innocent children. But that's not true, they're not like them. But that's not enough...they pretend to be like old men shitting about the same thing as if no one else in the world is equal to them...af if no one understands. Well, this gets on my nerves. A sandwich without the meat. YUCK! Your turn. DRIVER: Nothing else to add...you've said it all, I can't agree more.

GIRL: Really? The driver nods his head. GIRL: (CONT'D) Don't make jokes. You're a wise man and you'll say it better than I can. DRIVER: I'm not joking, but anyway here goes. Have you ever listened to a painter speak about his work? GIRL: Unfortunately I have. My uncle is an artist, he shits about it non-stop. DRIVER: Do you wish to see a new work of his after that? GIRL: Hell no! DRIVER: There, that's it. Conceited and pretentious turkeys. So full of conceit they believe they are an angelâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s body and soul. The head being the angel that observes and the body being the angel that records it all. Too heavy too digest? Tell me, what do you do when you see the sunset? GIRL: You found the right person to ask. DRIVER: Please...and be honest. GIRL: I cry! What do you think I do, I watch it. DRIVER: Bravo! Every normal person stops and watches. They don't move...maybe only to swat away a fly or something. And what do they do "those artists"? The girl shrugs her shoulders.

DRIVER: (CONT'D) They don't look at the sun, or the sky or at a field. The entire time they are looking at themselves, because to them that is all that matters. The artist as the witness of divine ephemerality. So how does a person admire someone that admires nothing... GIRL: I knew you were clever and that you'd say it better than me. DRIVER: You like it? GIRL: Oh yes! DRIVER: So, you think I said it well? The girl nods in agreement. DRIVER: (CONT'D) Are you sure? GIRL: Are you teasing me? DRIVER: Exactly, I'm teasing you because everything I said is wrong. GIRL: Wrong? How? DRIVER: I'm not right because everything I mentioned doesn't concern artists...it concerns those who want to be artists but are not! You don't just recognize a real artist because he's just like you. He just stands, looking and watching, moving only to swat annoying flies. When you look at him he smiles. You might think him suspicious but he isn't. THAT IS AN ARTIST! The type that stands and watches...maybe scratching his balls here and there, but one thing is certain...he won't pull out a drawing pad or an

easel to paint. He'll just stand...looking out, then a little bit at you and smile once again. A person with nothing else to do. He is silent, as every real artist is. He doesn't speak about the thoughts he bears within, because he knows words only bring misfortune when spoken. GIRL: How do you know all this? DRIVER: I drive and observe. You learn many things on the road. ..... Cut ..... FLASH The young man who earlier spoke to his mother in the car is sitting at a nearby table with an older man in his company. He does not see the driver and does not greet him. FATHER: The one under whose grace you are is a being who is a friend to us all. And even when you are without religion, a biological family, or anybody your own. SON: Bravo! The speech of a good catholic and a bad man. FATHER: The life you lead carries not just one but several deadly sins. SON: (cynically) How many father? FATHER: Within you there are probably more than seven. SON: Are there seven virtues or maybe seven delights

next to them? FATHER: That's more than I know. SON: Don't there exist seven wonders of the world? The seven days of creation, seven planets, seven atonements....seven of everything. Yet, seven delights are nowhere to be found. FATHER: Giving up sin as a path to virtue represents an act of enjoyment. SON: (raising his finger) Oh please...stop with these pearls of wisdom some priest tattooed your brain with. FATHER: You live in darkness and no one expects different words from you. God will take care of your conscience. SON: Then I donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t have to worry anymore. FATHER: When you reach old age, and when the time of penitence calls for you to look back at your past, and when it appears to you in all its nudity, monstrous and black, it will be too late to ask God for control of your conscience. SON: (feigning surprise) Is he going to steal it from me? FATHER: You are in the clutches of Satan my child, that's why you blaspheme so. SON: Are you familiar with the proverb that blesses the one whose heart hasn't condemned him and that a good heart is one which enjoys the pleasures of life. The heart, father dear, leads us through life

better than all of our heavenly guides. FATHER: I'll tell you once more, when you near the end... SON: When you dear father, reach your end, God will call you to him and unfurl your life before you he'll show you a life bereft of happiness, laughter, love and enjoyment - you'll receive his compassion only because your rotten life lacks the spark for re-ignition. God can't make anything more of someone like you. You father...are a decayed idea of a man. ..... Cut ..... THE MONOLOGUE OF AN OLDER WOMAN RIDING IN THE CAR OLDER WOMAN: I've grown up in vain, I could never calm down. My heart still beats as soon as I see a handsome man - they have an intoxicating effect on me, like a hot water bath, alcohol rushing through my veins or like a warm sandwich with good salami... A luxurious fountain, without brains of course! And there were many! Some had so much energy you could plug a microwave between their legs. City lights would quiver when they came. Flies would dance around lamps when calm would take hold again. Two specific types of men are the worst of the bunch. The first are the droolers, trapping women with their cocoon like understanding. Understanding everything...women count on their support. If she shakes her ass in front of some black men they cross their hands thinking "Oh God what I could do with you". They don't know that women need love more than understanding. Those that understand don't die for love and women want to see someone at their feet dying. Next up is that class of male in the fucking spiral of time that has avoided even the slightest retention of their mother's weakest gene. A kind of man determined

by his quickest gene - direct descendant of the first woman clubber. Wanting to fight at every moment, usually for the sake of stupidity, pride or honor. (cleans her cigarrette) I almost forgot the Christians...keep your strength for male virtues...a woman is not an animal to mount every night. Don't forget that she's not only your wife but also your mother and sister. These are the worst... Besides all of them there was a blacksmith that I loved. I remember him often. He's not around anymore. How? He just isn't. Not even under grass. Dear people live on only in the heart. Stiff corpses with terrible haircuts and bad make-up get buried. Woman is the soil that should be molded, roast her on a large fire. She'll either turn to ashes or she'll blaze....I blazed, of course I blazed. When we spoke I could make neither heads nor tails but everything came from his heart. He growled nearing me, air escaping his lungs like from a bellow stirring a fire. When I heard him the first time I was frightened (she laughs) I remembered everything: I asked him - "are you gonna eat me up?" He said no, but that he was going to take me to hell and there not even the thinnest of threads would come between us...so let the devil have the both of us if he wants. Oh god, where is he now. Life really is too fucking short. ..... Cut ..... FLASHBACK The phone rings. The driver lifts the receiver, disbelief rules his face. He shivers. DRIVER: (whispering) I can't believe it... A sweet sounding laugh is heard from the other end of the line. DRIVER: (CONT'D) Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s you?

WOMAN: Who do you think it is? I'm twenty now, add another twenty and I'm almost as old you are. The driver is losing grip with reality. The ground falls away beneath his feet. DRIVER: Where are you? WOMAN: I'm coming to you. DRIVER: How do you know where I am? She laughs again. WOMAN: I don't know, driver. DRIVER: How will you find me? WOMAN: Those in love always find one another. DRIVER: Are you coming by car? WOMAN: No, with a flock of wild geese. DRIVER: Everything is frozen over. WOMAN: Christmas is coming, that's the way itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s supposed to be. And watch out! I'm still planning on you falling in love with me. She laughs loudly. Even when she drops the receiver he still hears her laughter. He holds the receiver in his hands for a long time. ..... Cut .....

THE DAY GOD DROVE A MERCEDES The driver is not alone in the car. He pulls over to pick up a man waving his arm. A dust cloud rises and the new passenger shakes the dust from his clothes and continues to do so in the car. DRIVER: What's your name? GEORGE: George. DRIVER: George? Like George Bush? The new passenger laughs. GEORGE: Well, let's say so. DRIVER: How nice. Your smile makes you seem quite merry. However, you seem a bit worried. GEORGE: Like someone living on the edge of a volcano. (laughing at himself) DRIVER: Very witty. GEORGE: Why thank you. Did you know that man possesses two types of wit? The first, they say, comes from the head, while the other comes directly from the balls. The driver looks at George. GEORGE: (CONT'D) The balls are the center of strength. DRIVER: I like that! Strength and humor are not gained through life, inheritance gives it to us. GEORGE: Now I don't understand you. If a man can't learn to be witty, as you say, how can you say this for

strength as well? DRIVER: I don't like to force my opinions on anyone. What you see in films and on tv, all those pumped up men, that's not strength...that's obsession. You'd be surprised how much strength a puny man has. You would think there's no way in hell he would be able to lift an axe and split you and a tree in half with one clean stroke. GEORGE: You're right. I experienced something similar with a woman once. DRIVER: You love women, George? GEORGE: Who doesn't? DRIVER: What kind? GEORGE: What kind do I love? DRIVER: Yes. GEORGE: Empty headed bimbos looking for a good time. DRIVER: How old are you? GEORGE: Sixty. I had a happy childhood without much worries. (laughs) 60 or 16, same shit. DRIVER: Do you have children? GEORGE: Unfortunately.

DRIVER: Unfortunately? GEORGE: I've never been one to share my toys with anybody. My soul is like a children's kite painted with song birds. DRIVER: Nicely put. GEORGE: Thank you. (merrily) Besides birds, who can show us where we're going? Who? Anybody! DRIVER: God can sometimes be of help George. Do you believe in God? GEORGE: I don't feel like answering that question just like that. I'm not a superstitious man, but consequences are always possible.... Silence. The driver breaks it by turning to the Gentleman calmly sitting on the back seat. DRIVER: So God...what do you think about this? George jumps in his seat quickly. GEORGE: (surprised) God? DRIVER: Sorry I didn't introduce the two of you earlier. God this is George, like George Bush. And George this is Mr. God. GOD: My pleasure George. I've heard so much about you. GEORGE: I admit I'm a bit confused. (stares at God without blinking) Say something more...

I need to come to grips with this. GOD: What do you want to talk to me about? DRIVER: (interrupting) Everything about creation! (looking at George) We were talking about that earlier. GOD: I don't really have any more to say about that. DRIVER: How come? GEORGE: Just talk, don't take any notice of me. GOD: For a longer time now, the devil has been the sole owner of creation's licence. GEORGE: (surprised) Aren't you like the one who invented....everything? Like flowers for instance! GOD: Quite true, but just for the first few days. Only then was I creative. I was quickly left without my gifts, since then I have been repeating myself. GEORGE: Stop stalling, we know who you are. GOD: Well, there are small variations in growth, color, but everything else is more or less the same. Everything that I ever invented I just repeat and repeat. I've grown tired. GEORGE: What about rock and roll? GOD: I did that.

GEORGE: That was a good idea of yours! GOD: It wasn't bad in the beginning, but the devil messed it up immediately adding Morrison, Richards, Moon and Osborne...and also (waving his hands like flying) DRIVER: And television? GOD: No matter how much I tried, I was faced with the fact that I was losing momentum, that my strength was failing me. The Devil adopted media frighteningly quick. GEORGE: How? TV has wonderful commercials offering everything a soul could hope for. DRIVER: Do you have any secret plan to bring it back? GOD: I'm afraid it's all lost forever. DRIVER: What about a celestial tidal wave to sweep it off the face of the earth? GOD: I'm the God of creation, not destruction. Win some, lose some. GEORGE: Like farts and hiccups...they never go off together. GOD: (laughing) I agree, George. (to the Driver) I'm falling behind more and more. Following the magic of his tool, every other creator walks over the corpses of my ideals, and why? Because the Devil was there before them.

DRIVER: What can the devil do with morals? GOD: He wants them under his thumb! Why do you ask? Because morals are my last stronghold? From the first day I wanted a uniform herd, where no head was different from the other. This way humanity can best be controlled. (raising his tone) Control of the herd is most important for a natural order... GEORGE: Bravo! As soon as I hear some energy I hear the real voice of God! (squeezing his fists) My faith returns automatically. GOD: If it were only not for him... GEORGE: Satan? GOD: Who else? I think about him all the time. He's always a step behind me. He doesn't want a herd. He celebrates the individual. Every moment stirring creation in man, launching a storm, and then I'm helpless. GEORGE: I might be of some help to you in these matters. GOD: (surprised) Speak up, George. GEORGE: Only a good shepherd can keep a flock together. The problem is that not every herd has its own watchdog. Some have died, while others have not yet come forth...that's it. GOD: That's all?

GEORGE: Yes, what did you think? GOD: Thank you, George. The driver reaches for a bottle. Pours a glass and drains it in one gulp. He shakes. DRIVER: Uhhhh! GOD: Drinking while driving, driver? DRIVER: I haven't slept for a long time. I just drive. Fear doesn't allow me too much sleep. GOD: Don't you ever sleep? DRIVER: Recently? Not much. GOD: And you, George? GEORGE: Badly, I admit. GOD: How badly, tell me. GEORGE: I kick around at night. Sleep doesn't visit my eyes. Like I'm surrounded by something sticky with lead on my eyes, twisted blankets, a headache measured in decibels. When I was a small boy my dad told me all the time how lucky we are...being of several skins that is. Flay one and we have another hidden underneath, so on and so on. And when they flay the last (laughing) one more appears. When I see today how no one is able to fall asleep, it's a damnation, but these skins are a bit funny to me. GOD: You express yourself nicely.

GEORGE: Don't flatter me. GOD: But you put your thoughts together so nicely, you should be aware of that. Sometimes you even make yourself believe the things you speak of. GEORGE: (waving his hand dismissively) All in vain I tell you. A loss of time. Think...speak...what for? Just like menstruation in women. Something that begins and has no force to complete. A permanent beginning. No, that's not for me. Talking is for those that jerk off only when being watched. Ask the driver? GOD: Is that true driver? DRIVER: You could say that. GOD: And listeners? What about them? GEORGE: I listen too. GOD: Unlike blabbermouths, a listener is a creative man. A person that knows how to listen creates new spaces, new states. He draws them wherever he wants. DRIVER: Even somewhere where he isn't? GEORGE: Of course! That's the point, the real joy. GOD: The usual way of explaining things is the formation of a circle with a focal point in the center, therefore creativity is the art of the listener. A bad listener is a prisoner. Once a prisoner always a prisoner. Understand?

GEORGE: Not exactly. DRIVER: When set free, a prisoner is not the same as a free man. He is a prisoner at large. Did I say that right, God? GOD: Very well indeed. DRIVER: He will never be the same as those who are free from birth. Freedom is like lost baggage dragging behind him through life. Do you watch films? Do you remember the scene from "Andalusian Dog"? GOD: Sometimes. DRIVER: Then maybe you remember the scene where a man drags a piano, priest and a dead donkey. Do you remember that? No? George? Well? Those two Spaniards? The deaf one and the one with a moustache? This doesn't tell you anything? GEORGE: That it's a western, maybe? Films where people get mixed up with dead donkeys... (shakes his head) DRIVER: As if you didn't hear God when he talked about this. GEORGE: I was looking out the window. Birds, do you remember when I spoke about birds? Possibly? As long as we are on the subject let me just say this: I think that the craving for freedom, creation, whatever, is in fact the craving for...creation, wait a minute...what did I want to say? The driver laughs. George gets offended and God laughs at that. GEORGE: (CONT'D) Now you're making fun of me. Go to hell, the both of you!

George turns in his seat, offended. GOD: It serves me right! Maybe I should have remained invisible. Where are you from, driver? DRIVER: Europe. GOD: Really! I spent some beautiful days there. DRIVER: I know. GEORGE: A powder keg! DRIVER: Old whore. Every type of evil you can think of: revolution, murder, incest, arson, robbery…Oedipus, Caligula…fascism…stalinism GEORGE: Yeah, yeah…the short guy with the mustache. DRIVER: (addressing God)How could that all happen? GOD: Tough question, honestly, I don’t know! I barely saved the area, those poor people. I’ll admit that I’m getting weaker and weaker handling those types of situations. I’m afraid…if something similar starts cooking, I don’t know what… GEORGE: Stop whining! The cavalry always arrives in the end. (makes a trumpet sound) DRIVER: It arrived in Berlin, Russia, but later on it was like nothing was better. GEORGE: Don’t be like that, and our trumpets were heard over there!

GOD: You don’t need to defend yourself driver, I understand you. Big bosses replaced smaller bosses, that’s what you wanted to say. George, your cavalry was splendid, but don’t you think that maybe today they are spread too much around the world. Whenever something happens around the world your trumpets sound off. GEORGE: Too little! Way too little, and it’s so nice to hear the trumpets ring. (once again imitates a trumpet) GOD: (addressing the driver) So, where are you from exactly? DRIVER: From places where iron curtains beat your ass no matter which side you’re on. GOD: I know what you mean. What a horrible region! A Beautiful place with cruel people. Is your family with you? DRIVER: No! My father was jailed. His health deteriorated after prison and mother remained with him. They still live there. GOD: What was he in for? DRIVER: For some public scandal. At a party meeting he stood up and masturbated during a thunderous speech of Tito's blaring from the loudspeaker. GEORGE: Why did he masturbate? DRIVER: He cried that Tito's erotic words just made him want to come! God laughs and George seems confused. GEORGE: And that's why they brought him to court?

DRIVER: He was a little drunk, that's true. He paid for that too. GEORGE: But why prosecute him? Political speeches are always erotic. GOD: The driver isn't talking about a mental jerk off, but a real life one. GEORGE: HA! So God, where do you call home? Where do you live when you’re not driving around with us? GOD: Everywhere else than where I should be, where I planned to be from the beginning. GEORGE: In heaven? GOD: That was the plan. It’s really luxurious up there, I have the best view, but…somewhere along the way I fucked things up, George. Somewhere I really fucked up. All it took was a little dozing on my end and voila here comes evil…we talked about it earlier…those two guys with the mustaches…in a second they cooked up something nasty…and because of that, no more relaxation for me. Somewhere out there I really, really fucked things up. GEORGE: Not with me you didn’t. Regarding everyone else, who cares! All the passengers are silent. Only the car engine is heard. God bends forward looking at the car's instrument panel. Everything from the gear box, to the speedometer, to the gas pedal. GOD: (CONT'D) Shift? DRIVER: Force of habit.

GOD: Does it burn a lot of gas? DRIVER: Everything of value costs a lot. GOD: How many cylinders does it have? Six, eight? DRIVER: Eight, four valves per cylinder! GOD: A good ratio? DRIVER: The best! GOD: Electronic fuel injection? DRIVER: Faultless. Best product of the empire. GOD: I'd love to look under the hood. DRIVER: (happily) Do you want to drive a little? I usually don't let the wheel out of my hands, but I think I can make a God exception. GOD: Really? GEORGE: Are you sure that God can do this? In heaven roads are wide and easy to drive on, you can hand brake and spin wherever you want. Aunt Claire always told me... The driver turns sharply, ignoring George's remarks, onto a dusty extension along the road. He stops the car, turns towards God who is rubbing his hands in anticipation. GOD: You reacted so quickly.

DRIVER: Nothing really to think about. Plus, I'm curious. GOD: All of a sudden I'm scared. DRIVER: Just relax. GEORGE: You're not gonna go wild now. GOD: You're really sure you want to give me the wheel? DRIVER: With pleasure! The driver and God exchange places. God concentrates for a bit and slowly shifts the car into first gear and slowly eases into traffic. GOD: (beaming) Ooooooo, it glides so smoothly. DRIVER: A German machine! For long and comfortable drives just slide into a higher gear and give a little gas. The car engine purrs quietly. Soon they are driving sixty. GOD: Sixty miles per hour. Silence, peace and boredom. Like this, the engine has little wear and tear and you can reach long distances. Thatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s the space I planned for the human race. Wouldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t that be something? GEORGE: Let your Guardian Angel guide us! (laughing) Look, he's on the hood! Leaning against the German star. Without slowing down, God shifts into a lower gear. The engine starts droning. God adds more gas and the speed does not change. The noise is louder and God is smiling widely.

GOD: Now the speed is the same but the engine is wearing itself out. This speed is for those that have not yet achieved the bliss of cognition. (hits the gas even more) Another angel has replaced the lazy fellow next to the three legged star, do you see it George? God floors it, still without changing gears. The strong Mercedes engine pulls back with all its force...the engine noise shakes the car interior. George grips the back of his seat. The driver, calm and cool, just watches God and the passing scenery. GEORGE: Stop acting so crazy! God hits the gas and pushes the needle into the red. He raises his voice, now hardly audible over the engine rumble. GOD: This is the area for those who have no control...in whose veins blood boils. GEORGE: STOP! When both noise and speed reach their highest points, God shifts into a higher speed. The rumble quiets and the car smoothly glides down the road once again. George breathes calmly. GOD: That's it, that's it...better already. Hey driver, do you know what this state is? This is final maturity...gentle and safe to the end. Something like a prayer and the threshold of light...marriage. GEORGE: Democracy! GOD: Everything sailing together, at a speed where nothing wears out. Not even a single piston. NIRVANA! GEORGE: A drug addict! Addicted and suicidal! DRIVER: Who?

GEORGE: The one you just mentioned...Cobain, the son of Satan! GOD: Driver, something tells me this isn't everything...this isn't the end. This is not the end...what do I do? God floors it once again, throwing the car into third gear. The car rears up, pulling strongly at a high speed. The speedometer is in the red. Noise is deafening. God is crying and raises himself and looks out through the sun roof controlling the wheel with his foot. God howls. The Mercedes is ripping up asphalt as God masters every turn. The car is still in third gear and not able to go maximum speed. Because of the noise what God is saying cannot be heard. George is scared and grips his seat with both hands while the Driver has the calm expression of a Saint on his face, like one of bliss. GOD: (CONT'D) LOVE! PASSION! God realizes what he is doing and slows down quickly, pulling his foot off the gas and pulling over to the side of the road. Like an embarrassed child, he looks at the Driver and says shyly: GOD: (CONT'D) Please excuse me. I don't know what came over me. I could not resist. DRIVER: (sincerely excited) I've never seen anybody ever drive like that. EVER! GOD: How it pulls...oh how it pulls. You said four valves and eight cylinders, right? GEORGE: 4x8=32. I lost count how many times the shit in my bowls turned over. A wonder I didn't puke. DRIVER: You have to puke a lot to be a politician George...you have talent for that. The driver exchanges places with God. God is still breathing excitedly. GOD: (repeating to himself) Oh how it pulls...eight cylinders...oh how it pulls

(pensively) I should have created the eighth day for driving only. It's never too late to learn something. I am in your debt, driver! DRIVER: (after some time has passed) George, you've misunderstood understood God's words! There is no love in the creator. It goes without saying something gentle. It's an unknown force in them, like a weak current easily held by the hand. What shocks them is a much stronger force. Hunger! Hunger for creation! Love is a spider web beneath hunger, beneath hooves...Bukefal. (turning towards God) This drive has shown you that you are a creator nonetheless. A great creator! There is no need to doubt your self. GEORGE: Bukefal? Have you heard of Bukefal? (with self satisfaction) Colin Farrel rode it... DRIVER: Do you watch films, George? GEORGE: No, but I bet you do. And hunger is, I'll tell you now, I remember - hunger is for the hungry, cruel and nasty, so there! The driver pours himself another glass and drains it down. He pours another and brings it to his mouth, he stops as if remembering something and pours the contents back into the bottle. He raises his finger in a threatening fashion. DRIVER: God, would you answer something for me? I'd like your opinion. The road is quite empty and a man rarely gets an opportunity to speak with a co-driver like you. And there are a million questions in my head that need an answer. GOD: Go ahead, that's a good way for me to relax after such a drive. DRIVER: The clever ones? What do you think of clever

people? GOD: There you've opened my wound. This is my debacle, my greatest debacle! A sort that is dying out, a sort which no one has taken care of for a long time. They think much and do nothing, while the dumb ones do everything without thinking at all. GEORGE: Bravo! That's right. They do nothing. Others do everything for them. DRIVER: Politicians? GOD: Their job is to crawl up the ass of the voters, right near the asshole. Their campaign headquarters are built there, that’s where they built their village, they are always up to something…and I don’t think I have to mention with who… GEORGE: Where do they enter? I haven't heard the best part. GOD: In the ass, George, in the ass? GEORGE: Aaaahh, excuse me, since I stopped wearing my hearing aid I sometimes miss things. GOD: It doesn't matter, but don't interrupt me anymore...well, they build their homes at the entrance of a voter's ass. Sometimes they can't do things right because asses of the voters squeeze together so tight that only the most skillful manage to glide inside. Sometimes it easier, I think (angrily) Oh you've confused me George! No more interruptions! What was I saying? GEORGE: You know, just because you're God doesn't give you the right to talk in such an ugly way. Like all

of you in heaven are sooo much better than us! All of you up there like traffic signs. Filling our minds, reminding us how you're in charge, how only you know the way and even when none of you even travel. DRIVER: Artists? GOD: Somewhere at the crossroads of intelligence and stupidity. A bridge between opposing sides. But when such a bridge falls and sinks, no one notices. GEORGE: Which fucking bridge now? DRIVER: Regular people? GOD: (sighing painfully) Empty tins filled with rain water. Sometimes with wind and at times someone spits in them. Useful for only a single purpose. When they find themselves in the sky they think they are birds (flapping his arms) When I remember.....it shouldn't have been like this. GEORGE: (laughing and flapping) It's nice to drive with a witty God. DRIVER: Academics? GOD Representatives of a species whose umbilical cord has been cut from humanity. Immersed among tombs, despising every morning that serves something else except stories chewed up long ago, while the rest of humanity gets chronic gastritis and stomach troubles. GEORGE: Shitting beside the chamber pot, hahaha...I need to write this down.

GOD Only one more question please. I'm tired and I should be getting out soon. DRIVER: Media? GOD: A fart packaged and presented like a fragrance. GEORGE: It's not a shame to admit when you don't understand something. GOD: No, it isn't. Nothing is a shame to admit to. Driver slow down, I need to get out. I have important work to do. George, it was my pleasure. And driver, you're a good conversationalist. I'm already taking pleasure in your arrival, you will be a prized assistant. When you come we'll make arrangement for this fabulous machine as well. I'd like once more... GEORGE: And what about me? GOD Listen to me well. Each politician has a different sky above his head, a different day dawns to each and a different night blankets them all. Whatever the world might mean to you, remember this: children arrive into it head first. Misfortune lurking for them from the first moment. Neither resignation, pain, sorrow of elders or the evil with which mothers poison their brains can shake them. Bad weather outside a maternity clinic cannot cause them to waver, because children know: THE WORLD IS BEAUTIFUL! Keep this in mind at every moment. I must go now... DRIVER: Just one more question, please!?!? Love? God puts his hand to his forehead. GOD: I was afraid of that.

DRIVER: Does one carry love within? Do you understand what I'm trying to say? When we finally leave, what are we allowed to take with us? GOD Some questions are tougher than their answers. GEORGE: Is it true that in heaven the hands of a watch turn in both directions? DRIVER: Please, George! GOD People will say anything, George, really anything... God stops telling his story and sharpens his view of the road ahead. Someone is waiting with their thumb raised high. God turns white and starts to shout at the driver. GOD (CONT'D) Drive on! Don't pick him up! The driver does not listen and pulls up to the stranger on the road. GOD (CONT'D) Steer clear of him, I beg you! The driver stops the car and the stranger gives a big smile. DRIVER: Here you are! SATAN: Thank you. The new passenger, sits next to a frowning God and makes himself comfortable. The driver starts on down the road once again. DRIVER: (to God) You owe me an answer! (to Satan) Where to? SATAN: Nowhere. The same as you, Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m just along for the ride.

The driver turns to God. DRIVER: Sorry for not listening to you but I'm used to helping those in distress. That's your doctrine, isn't it? GOD It would have been better if I stayed silent. GEORGE: And the gentleman? Your face seems familiar sir. Have we met? GOD Satan! (angrily) This gentleman is.....SATAN! SATAN: Thank you. I didn't expect such a straight answer. (smiling at George) George, my old buddy, you didn't recognize me. GOD (angrily to the driver) I was right when I told you to drive on. You were on the good path with George and now you're at the beginning again. DRIVER: I'm really sorry if I did something wrong, but I can't act against my beliefs. It's my upbringing. GOD Blindly sticking to my example. DRIVER: Is there more? GOD There will be! I'm not angry with you. You didn't have anyone to show you. DRIVER: Like who? GEORGE: The church?

God waves his hand. DRIVER: (CONT'D) They hold a monopoly over your works. GOD: They never received permission to represent me. I never wanted to sell them the franchise. Never! Although, I could have made a killing. DRIVER: The church rubs you the wrong way? GOD: It’s a long story…. They have neglected the most important thing in man: LOVE! Love. All they have done is embraced the cross. They bind people to the church through fear! Through fear! They are afraid to talk about love, afraid of people running into the fields embracing one another…embracing. GEORGE: (laughing) Another type of skirt. GOD rolls his eyes. SATAN: Excuse me for interfering in this emotional discussion, but I heard you mention the church...is that a hotel where the reception desk is on the main floor? GEORGE: Yes, yes! There are many chairs and you can easily cheat collectors of alms with a shopping cart token. It rings nicely and is cheaper than a quarter. SATAN: I'm getting angry with you George. I still give alms. How else can a priest buy a new car? You really think priests want to drive in a piece of junk like this? (waving his hand) Let's put this to rest. Much more serious matters worry me. God, I'm here because I need your help.

GOD YOU NEED MY HELP! SATAN: Please, don't dramatize like always! God rolls his eyes. SATAN: (CONT'D) I fell in love...that's my problem. And this is your domain, isn't it? Love, and not passion. GOD: I can't give you advice. It's already too much that we're sitting next to each other. SATAN: Relax a little. Always so serious. People avoid you because of this. You even take this damn child with you everywhere you go. You can't cope with anything that's heard to bear. You lack style, both of you actually. GEORGE: Cool off, calm the little one and smile once in a while. GOD: I have already said who works on that! It wasnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t my idea. SATAN: (angry, pointing his finger) You resist in vain, nobody knows you better than I do. A moment ago, from the hill, I watched you drive. So much passion, as if I was looking at myself. God snatches the driver's bottle and pours himself a shot and drains it one gulp. SATAN: I think I may now get the answer to my question. GOD: Let me hear it, but be quick about it. SATAN: I have fallen madly in love.

GOD: (rolls eyes and smacks himself in the head) What else will I hear? SATAN: You heard well. GOD: (almost laughing) Satan in love? With whom? SATAN: With politicians, since the beginning, but now…now… GOD: No…? (blowing his nose into a tissue) SATAN: With the pharmacists! GOD: (breathes in deeply) SATAN: Not an hour goes by that I don’t think of them, or that they think of me. GOD: With just one, or with several? SATAN: All of them! GOD: All? Have any resisted? SATAN: (shaking his head) No! GOD: Do all of them return your love? SATAN: Maybe it's better not to speak with you about this...you'll get jealous.

GOD: Then it is a serious problem. SATAN: That's why I came looking for you. After the economists, wholesalers, businessmen, film producers jumped on my backâ&#x20AC;Ś.they jumped aboard as well. It's too much for me (bends over like he is about to cry)...I can't bare it anymore. My strength is failing me. I can't fathom how you cope with all that love. GOD: It goes without saying that much is not clear to you...that's why you're Satan. SATAN: Using a rare moment of my weakness to offend me? GOD: Because you haven't grasped something. I - GOD - am number one and man is my domain. SATAN: I am number one too and man is also my domain! GEORGE: (to the driver) Ministries for irrigating souls... GOD: (angry) We don't come from the same side. SATAN: From different ones...I definitely agree. That's why we clash in man. When you are on the surface I flow beneath. When you descend, I rise to the surface. GOD: (interrupting) There is no end to your story. What about political enemies? SATAN: Nothing changes. The more opposed they are the dearer they are to me, and I to them.

GOD: (holding his head) Are you aware of the enormity of this problem? SATAN: Certainly I am. That's why I sought you out. GOD: How does it manifest itself with you? SATAN: Quite terribly. My tongue dries when I think of them. Look! (sticks out tongue) My lower stomach goes numb...here touch. GOD: Leave my hand alone! SATAN: I didn't mean anything bad. GOD: Is that all that troubles you? A dry tongue and that...that...numbness. SATAN: There's more but that’s mainly it. GOD: That’s mainly it? That’s the main thing to you? Only this troubles you, and because of this you've lost the vigor in your loins. Satan opens his eyes in surprise. GOD: (CONT'D) And what else? (with a quivering voice) I wish myself back in heaven. I wish myself back in heaven! Driver, stop, please! SATAN: Are you leaving? Whenever it gets tough you get going. Just go away forever and take everything that's yours with you. GOD: (offended)

While you leave yours scattered around the world?!? SATAN: I could kiss you, how touching you are. GOD: You're selfish. SATAN: And you are in vain. GOD: You are insensitive. SATAN: And you always want to be a victim. Die already! GOD: After you. You've offended me, you always offend me. SATAN: With pleasure. GEORGE: And why do you offend God? SATAN: Because he pretends that his spirit is as clear as a spring. And that a single word clouds it with ease. GOD: Your foul soul will never have one thing: you small creation, you little soul, smaller than anything imaginable â&#x20AC;&#x201C; no one will pray at your feet. SATAN: I didn't understand a word through all that whining. GOD: Of course you didn't. What you will never understand are pure faith tears of sincerity and innocence. SATAN: I knew long ago that you were naive but the level of your blindness is what I cannot believe. Oh blind one, don't you see the entire world of show business clawing at me: politicians, economists,

pharmacists, religious sects, artists. All of them warmed in the clearest of faith. While your faith is tied to one fledgling boy. GOD: Enough! GEORGE: God, don't be so rigid. Be a little self-critical. You've given eternity to yourself and the little one, while we hardly get seventy years. Even less, if we drink and smoke. Satan threatens us with silk and satin while you give us a thorny crown. In our dreams we are chased by the sounds of broken bones and legs pierced by iron nails. SATAN: George, that's the church you're speaking of...slow down a bit. GOD: Stop, both of you! You're parasites and sloths. SATAN: Sloths?!? Me a sloth? While you worked a total of six days in your entire existence. GEORGE: Yes, yes, six days and you left us to slave until retirement. God glances towards the heavens. GOD: Your idle chattering gives me a headache. SATAN: You have a headache because you don't know how to listen. Look only at what types of bodies you have given to young men and women...and you tell them to think of bodies as rags of sin... DRIVER: I object! There the fingers of the church are at work and not those belonging to God. George ignores the driver's remark. GEORGE: Why didn't you give the youth our wrinkled skins? Then sin wouldn't cross their minds.

SATAN: The driver may be right. But one thing is sure. As soon as something goes different than he had planned, people call me to help and that's what scratches him raw. God looks at the driver in resignation and points at George. GOD: We were just a step from the goal and look at him now. A complete idiot. GEORGE: (showing off) I won't waver! I'm with Satan and I have resisted you well. You can offend me but I'm not afraid of you! Satan is my fort and you are...cow shit...tra la la la la. SATAN: Stop it George! George ignores Satan. He mocks God by making faces at him and imitating his voice. GEORGE: The path to me is paved in thorns...you shall suffer before you feast March if you like, we shall not! Satan slaps George in the head. SATAN: I told you to stop! GEORGE: (continuing to mock GOD) I donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t understand why you get so wound up whenever Satan appears. GOD: Very simple, I donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t like him! GEORGE: In a democracy no one can force you to like someone. GOD: I do not hear the call of democracy. I am all knowing and I decided what is right, and not the

human majority. Everything that I decide is in your best interest. Remember that, George. GEORGE: I would think I that I know what is best for me. Satan smiles and rolls his eyes. GOD: I am your FATHER. GEORGE: And what of it? Children are always different from their parents. Besides that, there are more of you up there. Everyone chooses a god that suits him the best. For example: you are an angry God, and some love you because of that, that is their choice. A big difference from him, I always choose the more generous God. And something else: people change. Today we love someone, and tomorrow someone else. GOD: You are going to make me angry, George! GEORGE: To make me afraid? I’m not having any of it. If one God gets mad at me the other one will defend me. HA! GOD: And my mercy has its limits? GEORGE: And what type of mercy can come from such a narrow soul? GOD: Don’t forget something: man is responsible for himself when alive, but I am responsible for him afterwards. So, remember this: everything that you know, you only know the half of it. If for nothing else, it should be a reason for you to stop bickering with me. GEORGE: Great! Whenever you find yourself in a bind you pull out an argument that can’t be proved.

GOD: For your wellbeing it’s better that you believe me GEORGE: You are without an argument, which means that you would not fare well come referendum time. And you are always threatening. Besides that, you should listen to me – from everything that you have given to us, we have found the greatest enchantment with only one thing – the dilemma! If you can understand: the possibility of free choice is the greatest erotica. Satan slaps George in the head. SATAN: I told you to stop, George! God holds his head with both hands for a long time. GOD: (whispering) My soul is not without stain. My greatest is my carelessness in man's creation. Because I was inattentive for a moment, allowing you to place your paw on his imperfection. Why do I tell you this when you know it anyway? SATAN: Times have changed old man! It's been a long time since I worked at a bare wage for you. GEORGE: What? You worked for God? SATAN: In a time when man still resisted his curiosity. I have to admit, the pay wasn't bad at all, but I couldn't bare seeing man suffer so much. God seizes the door handle angrily. The driver hits the brakes quickly. DRIVER: I ask you kindly not to exit until the car stops completely. As soon as the car stops, God runs out of the car and continues to run. He stops suddenly, walks behind a bush and takes off his pants. Satan speaks through clenched teeth.

SATAN: Now you see for yourselves. Like every other mortal, God shits and pisses, emptying his bowels. Those that pass away never carry their shit with them, they leave everything to the living. God cannot hear him. He comes out from behind the bush and buckles his belt and runs off toward the horizon. A full moon is shining in the sky. When he jumps the first time is seems as if he can touch the heavens. He continues jumping. GEORGE: Look at him go, the grasshopper God! GOD: I wish to leave the earth, I want to be back in heaven. Have I been rejected because of my earnestness? I shit on that! Don't you see how Satan pulls you like quicksand, there is no escape from his clutches. I shit on the fact no one loves me anymore! I shit on everything! I WANT TO BE BACK IN HEAVEN! He jumps and jumps. He wants to escape. It is pitch dark, the moon is no longer in view. God still tries to jump off of the earth and grab hold of the universe. With feelings of guilt on having parted with God in such a way the driver hits the gas and the Mercedes glides on once more. DRIVER: You were too severe with him. SATAN: I can't help myself. He is my special inspiration. It's maddening if I don't see him from time to time. DRIVER: Madness impresses people. Does it cost you? SATAN: It's an earner. DRIVER: What? SATAN: Money, happiness, what else? DRIVER: God is unhappy about this.

SATAN: When the craziness of the saints is his only choice. Saints, madonna...pffft. GEORGE: Madonna, what Madonna? SATAN: Anyone, they are all the same. The whole world is mine, he just won't admit it. This orb has finally become my merry-go-round with the most distinguished people sitting at my feet at the altar. Politicians, churchmen, singers, scientists, the sexually aroused...all the pharmacists of the world carry my picture in their wallets. DRIVER: Is there an alternative? Satan waives his hand. SATAN: The answer to general craziness has always been personal craziness. Madness â&#x20AC;&#x201C; general and everywhere. DRIVER: That means that only hard-boiled men survive. SATAN: It's all the same to me. God has stumbled, you saw for yourself. You can chase him away with just a few words. DRIVER: Listening to you it seems that everything is lost? SATAN: Men are greedy. DRIVER: You've never met anyone whose eyes didn't shine when seeing you? SATAN: You think there are such men? DRIVER: I think so...

SATAN: I don't care to think about that GEORGE: Children considered my father George a braggart while rolling on the floor laughing at his stories. But on the other hand there was great Aunt Claire shouting in the street: GEORGE!!!! SATAN: I don't want to enter the life of great Aunt Claire! GEORGE: But it would be a good story. SATAN: But it is not THIS story. GEORGE: But the pains Aunt Claire went through with George... SATAN: GEORGE! (to the driver) Let me out anywhere, I have had enough for today. GEORGE: May I go with you? SATAN: I feel like entertaining some different company. Is that a gas station over there? An excellent place for me. You have been good company driver. I'd like you beside me, think about it. What can God offer you that I can't? Consider it. As soon as he leaves the car a crowd gathers around him. He acts like a rock star. The driver smiles and presses the gas. The old Mercedes heads off into the horizon. DRIVER: Is Satan closer to you than God? GEORGE: He is more fun. Even though both of them are quite old, did you get a whiff of them two. Both of them are old boys. Real old, petulant boys. And they smell like old linen, did you sense that? They

deserve each other. DRIVER: You confuse me! First you were impressed with God and then you jumped into the arms of Satan. I admit it, I'm confused. GEORGE: That's because you don't live standing on your head. DRIVER: (surprised) Standing on your head? I've never heard something like that. GEORGE: Living like this, the head works both ways. Standing on your head your closer to Satan, standing on your feet your head is closer to God. It seems simple but it took me a long time to grasp this. My father taught me this, as did Aunt Claire, whose story no one will let me tell. That's why I'm angry with you driver. In this car you are the boss and not those grey heads. The one holding the wheel is always boss, remember this! The driver does not say anything. DRIVER: Where to George? Never got around to asking you GEORGE: (shocked back into reality) To visit my great Aunt Claire. DRIVER: Again with the great aunt...go on already, tell me about this great aunt. GEORGE: (excited) Do you really want to hear? DRIVER: Thereâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s no one else around. GEORGE: Another time driver. Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m a little tired myself..but,

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I’m from a family that always comes back. Until we meet again…always follow your dreams. DRIVER: What do you know about what I'm following? GEORGE: (waving his hand) Feel it, driver. Don’t do anything but follow your dream. Don't stop now, floor it. Show God and the Devil how much gas the road consumes. In the meantime...if I tell you about Aunt Claire, will you tell me about your dream? DRIVER: Can I tell you something George, without you getting offended? GEORGE: Does the sun shine? Of course, let’s hear it. DRIVER: You’re such a damn idiot that I’m only now beginning to understand why people love you so much. George explodes into a smile. ..... Cut .....

BARACK AND SATAN On a grassy elevation overlooking a large valley, God is trying to help a young black boy launch a gigantic paper dragon into the sky. As the boy begins to run the dragon soars into the sky. The boy runs through the valley holding a long string in his hand, while the paper dragon does amazing pirouettes through the heavens. A smiling God observes this idyllic scene. The dragon flies below and above the clouds, it flies in front of the sun, the dragon’s milky white surface is covered with wondrous drawings. Birds fly away, and butterflies are in awe of this new heavenly flyer. As the dragon flies over the valley the young boy is running along a grassy hill opposite to where a smiling GOD is still standing. The dragon lands perfectly, the smiling boy runs to pick it up, to hug it and kiss it… As the young boy bends to pick it up, a pair of legs appear out of nowhere. The boy stops and lifts his gaze. Satan is standing next to the paper dragon carefully studying the boy. On Satan’s face is a look of amazement, a smile cracks through. He lifts the dragon, careful not to damage it, at least that was the way he wants it to appear; with the most indifferent look on his face and with a wicked smile he

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snaps the first and then the second wing of the paper dragon. BOY: Who are you? SATAN: (scanning the boy with his eyes and in a deep voice) Congressman! At the other end of the valley God angrily stomps his foot, tearing away clumps of grass in the process. The boy stares at the dark figure with hate in his eyes, with all his strength he charges Satan and kicks him in the shin. Satan howls in pain and drops the dragon. The boy quickly scoops it up and runs down the valley towards God. Jumping on one leg, Satan howls because of the pain. … Cut … IN THE CAR WITH TWO WOMEN – ONE FAT, ONE SKINNY The driver exits the gas station toilet. George is seen getting into another car that is waiting for him. He waves to the Driver, as a skinny girl appears from around the corner. As she passes the Driver she stumbles, falling into his lap. She is very attractive, thin as a model. In fact, much thinner than the average model. She curses at him and he smiles. DRIVER: Can it get any better than this miss? Meeting such a handsome stranger and falling into his arms. She rolls her eyes and smiles. SKINNY GIRL: Excuse me. DRIVER: If I knew that you'd pass by here tomorrow, I'd be here waiting. SKINNY GIRL: So you're the girl catcher everyone is talking about? He nods. DRIVER: What else can I do here?

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SKINNY GIRL: You get a prize for doing this? DRIVER: Too little. Just think what would have happened if I wasn't here. That sweet cartilage on the tip of your nose would burst into a bloody flower, those two small teeth that only fairy tale bunnies can boast about would have been split in two, you'd have scratched your knees, torn your pants. Not in the least bit seductive...it's easy for me when I fall. More like a pirouette than a fall, but you...? SKINNY GIRL: You're borderline cavalier and idiot. DRIVER: There's no reason to quarrel. SKINNY GIRL: You know what. Fuck you! The skinny girl walks away. The driver gets in his car after paying for his gas. On the road again, the driver sees the the skinny girl, this time hitching a ride. He stops and she quietly gets in the back seat. With her legs crossed she glances out the window. DRIVER: Where to? SKINNY GIRL: It's all the same to me. DRIVER: As far away from here as possible? The landscape changes as they drive on in silence. The Driver slows down for a rather bulky female hitchhiker on the side of the road. She enters the car and sits in the front passenger seat. DRIVER: (CONT'D) Where to? FAT GIRL: It's all the same to me. DRIVER: It's all the same to you too? As far away from here as possible?

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FAT GIRL: You could say that. DRIVER: Don't mean to pry...but are you hurt? Did someone or something hurt you? FAT GIRL: Who wouldn't! In short, fat girls don't have much success in this town. DRIVER: Ah! If I offer you a sandwich you won't refuse it. FAT GIRL: I'll eat yours too if you're not careful. The driver gives her a sandwich. She takes it. He gives one to the skinny girl as well. She refuses. DRIVER: Have you always been fat? FAT GIRL: As long as I can remember. DRIVER: I don't mind at all, I think you're beautiful. What do you do? Carry logs? FAT GIRL: (laughing) I write. DRIVER: Oh,oh,oh...what a fertile day for writers! I hope you're not a journalist. FAT GIRL: Hell no! I write books with happy endings. The skinny girl rolls her eyes. DRIVER: That's nice of you. Have you been published? FAT GIRL: Not yet. The world would be a whole lot nicer without those bitchy editors that accept the works

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of neurotics, homosexuals and plastic surgery devotees. DRIVER: What was your last book about? FAT GIRL: You really want to know? DRIVER: (nodding) Of course. FAT GIRL: Oh, with pleasure. Can I light up first? DRIVER: Go ahead. She lights up and inhales deeply and breathes out the smoke. Visibly disgusted, the skinny girl frantically waves at the smoke with her arms. FAT GIRL: It goes something like this. There is a girl in the foreground. A good girl. She is good to her mother, family, neighbors and friends. She sings in a choir, wears simple clothes and vibrant colored t-shirts. She has big breasts and likes to go to the movies. Before seeing a movie she goes for a piece of cake and then for some ice-cream. The girl and her friend like the same boy in school. Her girlfriend, who is more open, flirts with the boy but he does not notice her. The boy's father has a video shop and the boy works there in his spare time - on Wednesdays after school and on the weekend. The man who owns the shop is a good man... DRIVER: I agree. The man from the video shop is a good man. FAT GIRL: During school choir rehearsals the girl has an "accident". While trying to hit a high C she tried a little too hard and farted. Her classmates laughed at her, but not the boy. After class, as other students laughed, he walked over to her and told her how beautiful she sang. He asked her out and she did not refuse. They went to the movies and

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for ice-cream...That's all I have for the moment, I haven't reached the end. Do you like it? DRIVER: I'd happily buy your book. FAT GIRL: You're making fun of me. DRIVER: I'm serious. FAT GIRL: When I get it published I'll leave a copy for you by the side of the road where you picked me up. DRIVER: Good deal! And I hope you find a similar young man. You are a very pretty girl and you write nicely. FAT GIRL: It's not enough to be pretty today. You don't know men. They always have one girl to cook for them and another for fun. DRIVER: You'd be the fun girl, I'm certain. SKINNY GIRL: Than what on earth would the cooking girl look like? The fat girl ignores the skinny girlâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s remark. FAT GIRL: When the time comes for him to decide, he will stay with the cook. The skinny girl raises two fingers as if she was in school. SKINNY GIRL: I'd like to get out now driver! DRIVER: We've arrived? SKINNY GIRL: I don't want to listen to this shit. The fat girl looks at her for the first time with disbelief on her face..

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FAT GIRL: I'm sorry if I said something wrong. DRIVER: You have nothing to worry about. FAT GIRL: Did I hurt you in anyway? SKINNY GIRL: Good taste! You hurt my good taste. FAT GIRL: I beg your pardon. SKINNY GIRL: You hurt my good taste. Apparently yours can't be shaken by anything. Not even that shit sandwich you gobbled up. FAT GIRL: You're rude. I'd choke on you if I had you for breakfast. SKINNY GIRL: That's â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;cause you don't chew, you just swallow. FAT GIRL: True. I don't chew my food too long. I'm not too crazy for spring water, I don't breathe correctly, I don't exercise, I'm not a vegetarian...the total opposite: I'm fat, sluggish, sickly and bereaved of any sense of guilt. SKINNY GIRL: Everyone notices, and please get that smelly thing away from me. FAT GIRL: I've never thought about quitting smoking or drinking less. I don't feel fresh air when it enters my nose. If I had a juice maker I'd shit in it. Do you like that? No? SKINNY GIRL: Driver, I'm begging you.

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FAT GIRL: I can barely stand, much less run. As soon as I pull myself up I stumble. As soon as a small wind blows, I fart. This is a sketch for my literary portrait. Short and succinct. My cover picture would be pretty large. Do you agree driver? DRIVER: It would be quite enough. SKINNY GIRL: Terrible. DRIVER: (to the fat girl) Women like you are a rarity today. FAT GIRL: Of course, so rare we should be paraded at the gym during happy hour with our non-ripped, enormously curved, medieval shield like bellies. SKINNY GIRL: I'm gonna vomit. FAT GIRL: What on me don't you like missy? SKINNY GIRL: You babble just to leave an impression. Talking like the body is a place for rent. Where is your pride, your female dignity? FAT GIRL: Oh lord, pride, dignity...you speak about women's dignity and I hold myself back, not to sneeze and blow you out the window. A women's dignity? Where are your tits? A baby would mistake your chest for a grill. I don’t understand what you want from me. Do you want me to put on some sweat pants and join a cult. Maybe that’s not such a bad idea. There was one below me where I live – in the room located between the classes for proper breathing and proper nutrition. SKINNY GIRL: Don't start again. All your trite, simple phrases. Just cheap positioning. Why don't you say something Driver?

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The Driver shrugs. FAT GIRL: I get sick thinking about people like you. You don't understand that HAPPINES is the only thing we get out of this fucking existence, life is the only thing worth plundering, pillage it to the bones. SKINNY GIRL: You're stupidity makes you dearer to me. FAT GIRL: I don't give a fuck about what you have to say. SKINNY GIRL: Don't you care what life has to say? FAT GIRL: I don't give a fuck. I have something to say too, but life doesn't hear me either. I've spent my whole life under God's sweaty balls and asshole. The skinny girl is shocked. Her lips tighten. SKINNY GIRL: That is so beneath me. Driver, please! FAT GIRL: (sighing as she speaks) That’s a problem my dear… (spreads her hands) Why I do have to be there? Why me? (yelling) WHY ME? SKINNY GIRL: What does he have to say? FAT GIRL: That skinny bitches like you traumatized this world. SKINNY GIRL: Why does he treat you like this? Why doesn't he fuck with me? FAT GIRL: You don't even know how much he fucks with you.

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The Driver adds his opinion. DRIVER: That’s nothing out of the ordinary; everyone asks themselves the same thing when they wake up: the poor, the sick, those down on their luck, soldiers. Writers without publishers, librarians without books, painters without canvases…why do I have be under God’s asshole? And never an answer to their question. FAT GIRL: Believe me, if one doesn’t come soon, I’m going to let myself sink and I won’t lift my head up… and I won’t stick out my arms to grab hold of a branch either… SKINNY GIRL: Grabbing hold of a ferry wouldn’t help you, much less a branch. FAT GIRL: I’m going to fall just right. With all of my strength I’ll jam myself to my neck in some mud; there’ll be no chance of getting me out. But until then, all I want to do is write stories with happy endings. SKINNY GIRL: Cheap pathos, nothing but cheap pathos. Listening to you, a person might think that insanity is bliss. FAT GIRL: Exactly! If it wasn’t blissful, who in their right mind would be crazy? FAT GIRL: (CONT'D) We've arrived, driver. (to the skinny girl) Do you want me to leave a copy of my book...the one with a happy ending...for you? SKINNY GIRL: Fuck off! As the fat girl leaves the car the skinny girl breathes easier. DRIVER: You're quite unfair.

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SKINNY GIRL: You like that crap? DRIVER: I think her book is interesting. SKINNY GIRL: She's an idiot. DRIVER: You're really unfair. SKINNY GIRL: I wouldn't get mad if she was successful...but I do think she's an idiot. DRIVER: I still think you are showing off all the time. SKINNY GIRL: Why? Because I don't think like you? DRIVER: No need to compare yourself with anyone else in order to be polite. SKINNY GIRL: What does it mean to be polite? Or hypocritical? Go to hell...along with your fat, farting ass. Stop here! He stops and she exits the car. She turns towards the Driver. SKINNY GIRL: (CONT'D) Thinking it over a bit...you're just one sad man. DRIVER: Probably, but I don't think about it. I just drive. SKINNY GIRL: A man that doesn't think must surely be happy. DRIVER: And what do you write about, if it's not a secret? She thinks for a moment. SKINNY GIRL: About a happy man.

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DRIVER: There you go. You two have more in common than... SKINNY GIRL: Don't shit me. DRIVER: Ok. What does your happy man deal with? Does he have a heart as big as aâ&#x20AC;Ś SKINNY GIRL: My man pisses into all four winds. DRIVER: Excuse me? SKINNY GIRL: I'm writing a novel about a man that pisses into the wind from the four corners of the world. DRIVER: Quite interesting. SKINNY GIRL: A proper explanation would be too exhausting...for me and for you. DRIVER: Just try. I'd be grateful. SKINNY GIRL: (pensively) When a man pisses into the wind, both sides are pissed on, the man and the wind. It is a question of ideal symmetry. Do you understand? And that's it. Really...that's all. DRIVER: I'm not quite sure I understand. SKINNY GIRL: The symmetry! DRIVER: Happiness is within the symmetry? SKINNY GIRL: Of course!

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DRIVER: You mean, like love? SKINNY GIRL: Come again? DRIVER: I said...like love? SKINNY GIRL: What does love have to with anything? DRIVER: Isn't love a result of symmetry - two beings, two identical feelings. SKINNY GIRL: You didn't understand me very well. A match is lit only at one end. It's clear that an orgasm is a metaphor of non-symmetry...like with everything: morals, truth, honesty, goodness. DRIVER: Doesn't all of that fall under happiness? SKINNY GIRL: (rolling her eyes) Out on this road you've really gotten lost. Everything I mentioned is the total baggage of misfortune. Indifference - that is happiness! With this she exits the car, slamming the door behind her. ..... Cut ..... THE DRIVER AND A SMALL LINEN BUNDLE The driver takes out a small linen bundle from the glove compartment and puts it on the dashboard. He talks to the bundle like a living person. Voices are heard, his lips move. DRIVER: I can't wait to take you in my arms.

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WOMAN: Your arms can't reach me, only your love can. DRIVER: I must come to you! WOMAN: If you come towards me I'll never see you. I exist only while you live. DRIVER: But I can't see you. WOMAN: I am above you, near you, everywhere around you and within you. I embrace you from all sides. When you call to me silently I hear you. Talk to me! I'll send my answers through leaves and waves, through the wind and through pictures at the end of a kaleidoscope. You will see my marks in the colors of pictures and in the lines of every landscape. DRIVER: But... WOMAN: Pssst! Of course, when one person leaves another the one that stays behind feels that his hands are clumsy; serving just to wipe tears from the face, but you must learn how the one who leaves cannot travel further on until the one who stays is calmed down completely, until he himself becomes them two. That's how it must be, because such is the law of the world. Otherwise we who left first would flutter in the air like small pieces of paper, like sparrows among branches. So I still flutter in place, unable to fly away, until you calm down completely. Only when calm quiets your hands, we can become one again, the one which is for eternity. You down here and me up there watching over you, taking care of you. Do you remember that small dog Ivy, who went astray from us and passed the night in the woods? Just like him, I shall appear suddenly one day, as somebody else, as somebody you won't recognize immediately. Because those in love always find each other, they are born for one another.

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..... Cut ..... A DOCTOR AND HIS PATIENT An ambulance is overturned in a ditch beside the road. The ambulance's driver is walking in circles, while a doctor and patient are sitting off to the side. The Mercedes comes to a stop. As soon as the doctor sees the car he gets up with his patient and hurries to the car. The ambulance driver stays near his overturned vehicle. A passenger in the back seat moves to the front seat making room for the two new passengers. The doctor is quite agitated. As they begin driving the passenger asks. PASSENGER: What happened? DOCTOR: We had an accident, what else? Women drivers! As soon as they sit behind a wheel red lights city wide should light up as a sign of caution. PASSENGER: I don't agree with you about women. The driver keeps silent. DOCTOR: Women are irresponsible. DRIVER: Is the patient well? DOCTOR: The hell he is! A liar! Clinical example, and a completely split personality. Man and woman all in one! DRIVER: You're a psychiatrist? The doctor nervously waves his hand. PASSENGER: I don't believe in doctors and patients. DOCTOR: (angrily) Do you want to listen to him? Do you want to hear

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his ramblings?... I don't believe in doctors and patients. PASSENGER: I'll listen to him gladly, so long as I don't have to listen to you anymore. DOCTOR: So that's what you want? PASSENGER: Just shut up! A short silence, then the fidgety doctor starts in again. DOCTOR: (visibly nervous) You donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t believe, do you? Ok, Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll give you your satisfaction. The doctor leans towards the patient and whispers something to him. The patient shakes his head brusquely but the doctor insists. PASSENGER: Leave him alone! The doctor persists. PASSENGER: (CONT'D) Stop mistreating him for God's sake! The doctor manages to persuade the patient to talk. Before the patient talks the doctor addresses the driver. DOCTOR: He's possessed by two people. He talks that way...listen up. The grim faced patient looks like he is preparing for a role. His dialogue starts. He speaks fast, to himself as man and woman. Facial gestures and color of voice change rapidly. Two separate entities in one package. MALE PERSONALITY: Cupid's arrow, ready and triggered. Shall I sting you with it? FEMALE PERSONALITY: I don't understand.

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MALE PERSONALITY: You don't understand? It's like this, to make someone fall in love you have to sting them a little, make a small wound...ha ha ha. FEMALE PERSONALITY: What do you mean by that? MALE PERSONALITY: My arrow has become very hard. FEMALE PERSONALITY: Arrow? MALE PERSONALITY: Give me your hand. The patient takes hold of his right hand with the left hand and places it firmly on his cock. The doctor is mesmerized. He signals the driver with his eyebrows. DOCTOR: Ah! The patient does not interrupt. MALE PERSONALITY: Oooh! What are you doing? Let me go. DOCTOR: And what did I tell you? The patient does not react to the doctor's remarks. MALE PERSONALITY: I held her firmly by the hand. She pulled away as far as she could. FEMALE PERSONALITY: Let me go, please! MALE PERSONALITY: Don't be angry! Nothing wrong with a little tenderness to start off the day. FEMALE PERSONALITY: Let me go, please... MALE PERSONALITY: We wrestled a bit. I came real quick. My God, I

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came in my pants. She also screamed, but with glee. Bravo hunter. Your arrow flew quickly. A quick burst of laughter erupts from the doctor. The driver is watching through the rear view mirror. The passenger attacks the doctor. PASSENGER: You're mocking him. What kind of a doctor are you? DOCTOR: A just one. When he went hunting he rode a horse leading a pack of dogs, when his prey neared he came in pants. BRAVO! It's not nice for me to mock him, you're right. But what a catch. The doctor laughs at his last words. Nudging the patient with his elbow. DOCTOR: (CONT'D) Continue. Shaking his head the patient stares out the car window. DOCTOR: (CONT'D) Come on! PASSENGER: Don't listen to him! He's the madman, not you! The patient shakes his head. DOCTOR: You don't want to continue? (getting angry) You want to fuck around with me? In spite of everything I've done for you. PATIENT: I don't want to talk about it anymore. DOCTOR: Why? PATIENT: I'm scared. DOCTOR: (conciliatory) I couldn't stomach parts of the story as well, but what can you do? Come along, continue now.

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(gently) Our driver is eager to hear the rest. PASSENGER: Leave the man alone. DOCTOR: Don't you dare interfere! You want trouble? Just keep on attacking me. PASSENGER: I'm not afraid of you. DOCTOR: Really? PASSENGER: You're a clown! The doctor's lips quiver. DOCTOR: (almost shouting) Illness is an immense ocean upon which many boats sail. Small lanterns lead their way. (spreads his arms wide) A single lantern is insufficient to light the smothering darkness. It shines only on us and not the darkness. I implore you to help me find the way. In order to know our inner self we must go outside of ourselves. You must help me. Only together can we go further. PATIENT: After you mocked me so? PASSENGER: (to the doctor) Can't you see you're over the line? (to the patient) Don't listen to him! DOCTOR: (eyeing the patient, pretending to be offended) But I'm your only friend. PATIENT: That's not true. I have other friends.

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DOCTOR: Well, at the institution I'm your only friend. The patient wavers a moment. The doctor winks at the Driver, careful his patient doesn't notice. PATIENT: Well...just this time. The passenger sighs deeply. PASSENGER: (to the doctor) You're crazier than this poor man. Grabbing the patient with both hands, the doctor kisses the sick man on the cheek. The patient frees himself from the doctor’s clutches and begins again. MALE PERSONALITY: You're such a funny woman. FEMALE PERSONALITY: Funny?!? You don't believe all this...do you? MALE PERSONALITY: She approached me, looked me straight in the face. FEMALE PERSONALITY: You once woke up with some strange bruises on your face? Like the ones on my neck? The patient bends his head like an ostrich trying to stare at its own neck. MALE PERSONALITY: Well... DOCTOR: (to the driver) You need to hear this! MALE PERSONALITY: She interrupted me! FEMALE PERSONALITY: You think a woman hit you with her hand while you were snoring? A dead man kissed you while sleeping and left those marks on your body. They’re his signature. If you know how to read

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you'll recognize the writer. If not now, then when you are no longer among the living. MALE PERSONALITY: Stop talking nonsense! FEMALE PERSONALITY: You're not interested in them, but they are interested in you. MALE PERSONALITY: Interested in me? I said stop talking nonsense? FEMALE PERSONALITY: I don't see any bite marks. That's strange, that's the spot where their hot teeth arrive for a pilgrimage. Did you know that dead bones are as cold as broken radiators? And that only their teeth are hot? Sometimes steam rises from their teeth. The dead breathe, it's well known! MALE PERSONALITY: Shut up already! FEMALE LOVER: Oh...maybe I shouldn't say this...no, no. MALE PERSONALITY: What now? FEMALE LOVER: No, no...I can't. MALE PERSONALITY: Say it! FEMALE LOVER: Maybe that's the mark of the arrow? MALE PERSONALITY: Arrow? FEMALE LOVER: Don't tell me you've never heard of the arrow that stiffens in man the very moment he is possessed by passionate love. Such an arrow pierced your neck as you slept. I am sure of this. A dead man thrashed his arrow on your face.

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The doctor excitedly pats the Driver on the back. MALE PERSONALITY: I jumped from the bed and shouted as loudly as I could. SHUT UP you horrible creature. What will happen to hell when a woman like you arrives in heaven? FEMALE LOVER: What? Do you not want me to mention those fiery arrows? Just because you are some dead personâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s favorite. You really want that? MALE PERSONALITY: You're crazy, you are completely nuts. You're so deranged you should be carrying the lead banner in the madman parade.....leaving the room she laughed at me. Tears streak down his face. MALE PERSONALITY: (CONT'D) She laughed at me... DOCTOR: What did you expect? She rejected you so many times, but you didn't want to listen. She even slammed the door in your face, cursing you. Am I correct? The patient gives a sheepish look. The doctor swoops down on him. DOCTOR: (CONT'D) (imitating his patient) When you bite a woman in that place you think she'll come to hate you. That she's furious with you...but you should know something my friend, those are the faults of men that arouse women. The patient grabs his head. PATIENT: Please. The passenger jumps from his seat, snatching the doctor by the throat. PASSENGER: SATAN!

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Freeing himself, the doctor continues. DOCTOR: Just think...every time she sees me she clutches her loins, feeling my teeth nibbling her. What do you think of that? PASSENGER: Driver, stop! I'll call the police. The patient cries into clenched fists. PATIENT: Stop. Leave me alone, please. DOCTOR: She gave you only what you deserved. You chased her! And why? I must say how sad such a love must be when it included you in its possibilities. Yes, yes! The doctor glares at the passenger expecting an answer. PASSENGER: Madman, you are a pure madman. The patient is still crying into clenched fists. Suddenly, the doctor regains his scholarly calm and utters importantly. DOCTOR: He is mad. Completely mad! A schizophrenic....not just a schizophrenic. He is... PASSENGER: You're a madman, a pure authentic madman. DRIVER: Madness is not so benign a thing, isn't it doctor? DOCTOR: With madness one can do everything. PASSENGER: Like become a doctor, among other things. DOCTOR: (ignoring the passenger) Madness is an organ, like a tongue in women. Both can stretch, can they not?

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(darting his tongue) From paradise to hell and back again. DRIVER: This is your daily business? DOCTOR: More like my daily obsession. Madness does not walk forward anymore. Only left, right and backwards. PASSENGER: Why backwards? DOCTOR: (whispering) Because the uterus is still warm, perfect to squat inside and stalk prey. DRIVER: What prey? The doctor continues to whisper. DOCTOR: I see that you are ill informed. I have to tell you...one evening I passed that way on my way back. (waving his hand like a military leader) Straight to the uterus. My place! While lying in bed, my bed. I felt a gentle draft. Mother opened the door letting someone inside. Somebody came towards me and I did not want that. He glided into my shelter, my home. Don't you see, a stranger was approaching me!!! In a moment I understood there was nothing else for me to do but take him by surprise. As he arrived... (getting excited) I started thinking...how much does he need me? He approached and stepped back. Forward, backward, forward, backward! I waited for my moment , trembling, as if I were crazy. And finally when I heard him arrive, gliding straight at me to the slutty soundtrack of my mother's moaning, an awful surprise awaited him. Neither knew I was there, there inside. His final screaming approach was too late. He never saw me (screaming and chomping with his teeth) VAAAMM! I bit him and there was blood

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everywhere. He howled and I kept biting and biting. His screams of horror were met by mothers, and by my, screams of delight. His were of pain. (laughing) And that’s that. Winded, the doctor stops. The passenger makes the sign of the cross in disbelief. DRIVER: And that’s that? PASSENGER: You're a sicko. Someone needs to reserve a strait jacket for you. You’re nothing but a piece of shit. DOCTOR: I’m a piece of shit? Sooner or later you’ll come my way…no one can escape me. Until then, beware! The doctor makes all sorts of grimaces. DOCTOR: (CONT'D) I've had enough of sick people for today. Sometimes I can't bear it. (putting his hand around his patient's head) Get ready my lover, we've arrived. Driver, over there! The doctor looks at the passenger. Pointing his finger at where he wants the driver to stop the car. The doctor and patient exit the car, walking down the street towards the hospital. A pregnant dog is walking towards them. The doctor throws himself on the dog, embracing her, putting his face near her swollen teats and begins crying. The dog remains calm. The patient kneels next to the doctor and pats him on the back with great sympathy. .... Cut ..... FLASHBACK The car is parked by the side of the road. As far as the eye can see it is low land country. The occasional breeze blows a few leaves down the road. The Driver, with one foot on the car’s fender, is looking off into the horizon. The woman is on the hood of the car, curled up fetus style. It takes him a while to exhale the drag he takes from his cigarette.

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DRIVER: When? WOMAN: Next week. He turns his head and looks at her. She is staring at her beat up sneakers. WOMAN: Lovers always find each other… She leaps from the hood arms spread wide; she throws herself on the Driver, sitting on his shoulders. She hugs his head with her arms, leans her head on his head. She stays this way for a long while, breaking the silence she says… WOMAN: There you go tough guy, I slid between your fingers. If you were a real man you would do something about it, there was more than enough time. She lets out a great laugh, jumps off of him and runs around. As she is running she is crying. She continues to cry even when she stops running, and continues when he catches up to her and strongly embraces her. Through tears she says… WOMAN: Those that love each other always find one another, there’s no retreating from that. (wiping a tear) And when I get back there’ll be no more…two of us on opposite sides of the tracks. Remember that! As the camera rises they are like two dots in an endless, empty space. Just the two of them.

AT THE BUS STOP Smoke is pouring out from under the engine hood. Near a bus stop the Driver stops the car. He gets out and pops the hood. Dense, grey smoke gushes out. The driver is furious . DRIVER: (whispering) Water! A familiar voice comes from the crowd gathered at the bus stop. GOD: I am water! Let loose the floods and let all be fertile.

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Another familiar voice interrupts the first. SATAN: I am both earth and water... Wiping his hands with a greasy cloth, the driver approaches the crowd. Close enough to see God and Satan arguing, showing off like petulant children in front of the large crowd waiting for the bus. SATAN: (CONT'D) What did you do to your Son, that you did not do to the others? You mutilated his hands and feet so he couldn't move. You pierced his spleen so his pain would break him. You've made him a metaphor, abandoning all I threw at man's feet as a noble temptation. GOD: Temptation to which man is not equal is penitence rather than a blessing. SATAN: You underestimate people and mock them. GOD: I know them better than you do. My soul is bound by morals, their homeland is wandering. That is their kingdom. Not your wilderness without fences and discipline. SATAN: (spreading his arms wide like the messiah) Tear down the borders and travel, my disciples!! By foot, by bicycle, by car, plane and train....on skis and on roller skates. I am with you every inch of your journey. My kingdom is within you and around you. I am in front of you and behind you. There is no better kingdom for you than mine. The closer you come to me the further you are from yourselves and the better you know me. Let your steps become your prayers, because those who travel only to kneel on pews will rub sore knees in vain. GOD: (shrieking) I didn't mention the fucking church, I spoke about my kingdom! (arms raised)

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Bow to me, my disciples. Your strength is the reflection of my strength; your imagination is the reflection of my mirror, your love the fragrance of my skin. I stand behind all that you conceive, I am all that you possess and what you do not. I am what you see in the mirror. But him? He is what the mirror conceals under dark layers. SATAN: Judge him only by what he did to his son. I will not crucify you, my children. Except for pleasure...but that goes without saying! The crowd stares at them. ..... Cut ..... The driver pours water into the radiator and shuts the hood. He sits behind the wheel and guns the ignition. He hears a knock on the window. PATIENT: Do you remember me? Two people from the crowd walk over to the car. The Driver squints at them and shrugs. One of the men looks familiar to the Driver. DRIVER: You do look kind of familiar. PATIENT: I rode with you once, driver. Do you remember that merry man, the doctor? DRIVER: (remembering) Doctor?! Of course, now I remember you. You're his patient, right? The patient nods. A pretty young woman smiles. The Driver opens the door to the back seat. A few moments later the car was gliding down the wide road. The bus stop gets smaller and smaller in the rear view mirror. DRIVER: (CONT'D) How is he? Poor man...

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PATIENT: He's better. I visit him from time to time. DRIVER: Tell him I said hello. PATIENT: He'll be glad. He remembers you fondly, says he never met anybody who knew how to listen like you. But what can you do? DRIVER: And you? How are you? You seem so... PATIENT: Normal? DRIVER: Sorryâ&#x20AC;Ś PATIENT: Nothing, nothing... Man changes. Even snakes that don't shed their skin change with time. When the doctor took up the bed next to mine I knew it was time to leave. And when a man decides on something, the rest is just paperwork. DRIVER: And you miss? GIRL: Me? DRIVER: What are you up to? GIRL: I'm a virgin, not the most innocent, but a virgin. DRIVER: Oh? GIRL: (hisses) The patient reacts hypnotically to her hissing sound. His eyes are blood shot. He turns to her and growls at her. GIRL: (CONT'D) I can't wait for my wound from the arrow to heal, so you can challenge me to another duel.

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(seriously) Just don't let your hand become weak. Your chance for victory will be a lot smaller. Before throwing himself on her she pretends to be afraid, throwing him spying glances and looking at the bulge growing between his legs. GIRL: (CONT'D) (affectionately) Stay where you are, please! Donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t deliver me death in battleâ&#x20AC;Ś They pant like rabbits while staring at each other. Their bodies are hot, their heat fogs up the windows, the Driver turns on his wipers. GIRL: (CONT'D) Swear that you won't beat me again. Keep in mind that I'm only a poor girl. PATIENT: It is my honor to entertain you. GIRL: I admired a hero who once said: Nobody ever saw me from behind during a struggle, nobody knows me from the back. Ah... (sighing like an actress) Now it seems that I am going to betray him, something drives me to reveal myself in such a way. Tell me, honestly - do you like to take your prey from behind? She turns in her seat and the patient sighs deeply before throwing himself on her. PATIENT: Aaaaaaah! Afterwards there is nothing around them, just the elements and the Driver strongly gunning the engine. ..... Cut .....

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AN INCURABLE PATIENT The patient and driver are alone in the car. The patient is thin, tall and calm. A man without superfluous movements. He keeps his hands placed on his knees, when speaking, he only moves his lips. PATIENT: I haven't been myself for months, my friend. DRIVER: What happened? PATIENT: The heart! I was in great trouble. I hardly got out of it. DRIVER: Everything all right now? PATIENT: The hell it is. The game of hide and seek is over. That bitch discovered my weakness. DRIVER: Bitch? PATIENT: DEATH! DRIVER: That's a better name. PATIENT: I try not thinking of her. I pretend she doesn't exist. DRIVER: Forgetting completely, now maybe that's a solution. PATIENT: If there even is one. I've tried other things. After I came to my senses I searched for places where death hasn't taken anyone by surprise. DRIVER: Do such places exist?

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PATIENT: Oh yes. DRIVER: Where? The patient cunningly smiles and bends towards the Driver, whispering in confidence. PATIENT: On the merry-go-round. DRIVER: Where?!? PATIENT: At the circus, on the merry-go-round. I asked the owner if death ever caught anybody going in circles? He said: NO, never! DRIVER: I really don't know what to say. But if he said so then this solution serves your purpose. PATIENT: Everyone should believe a merry-go-round owner. DRIVER: What does it look like? PATIENT: Very simple. I go around in circles. DRIVER: A man can get dizzy from spinning. PATIENT: I get headaches from time to time or better to say that my brain spins, but at least I don't have time for a more serious illness. DRIVER: What happens when it stops? It has to stop sometime. PATIENT: I vomit and wait to go back to my chair. You yourself know how much a man has to accomplish in a lifetime, what can't be done by anyone else, so I never stop completely. I've arranged my area like a workspace and that's it. I go round and

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round, observe the landscape as far the horizon allows, I take notes and vomit. I watch the sun and clouds, and vomit again, take some more notes and vomit some more. DRIVER: That's not an easy life. PATIENT: No it isn't. But at least I've escaped the worst. DRIVER: Then it's worth it. The patient nods in agreement. ..... Cut ..... THE THEATER MANAGER AND HIS SECRETARY A theater manager, a fattish man with smooth cheeks is sitting Buddha style in the back of the car. His female secretary is sitting next to him. She is rather thin and wears enormous glass that have a thick plastic frame. The Driver brakes fast, passing a chapel with a freshly painted illustration of the crucifixion. THEATER MANAGER: Pity, the boy was in his prime. His father should not have allowed such an end. SECRETARY: Your happiest when you mock? THEATER MANAGER: In pain and old age, cynicism is all that remains, my dear. SECRETARY: There are no other types of consolation? THEATER MANAGER: There are medicines of course. The young donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t need medicine, they have no need for it. The middle-aged cure themselves with fresh air and spring water, green teas and yoga. My dear, old age only believes in medicine. Pills and injection - the holy grail of the old and the sick! And a handful of cynicism.

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SECRETARY: Faith is an invigorator...FAITH. THEATER MANAGER: My faithful friend...faith is nothing more than an ornament. The facade of the youth. Tell me...who has our savior spared pain? Don't mention those who have been saved, they no longer need salvation. Painted wood, a half-naked boy dying on a beam, itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s all a costume jewelry existence. When the flame of pain licks, even saints whine like pups. Pain is a shipwreck...pain is a shipwreck. SECRETARY: Life never cast anyone to the side. DRIVER: (to the manager) So what do you do? THEATER MANAGER: What do I do? Now that's a good question! Katherine, what do I do in the morning? SECRETARY: (angry) Nothing, except read the newspaper. THEATER MANAGER: I read? Why thank you, Katherine! I read...I read in the morning. DRIVER: Newspapers? THEATER MANAGER: (turns automatically to his secretary) Ah no! In the morning I open my notebook where I jotted down notes from the night before. DRIVER: So you read your notes? THEATER MANAGER: I sift through them. In the morning I weed through what grew overnight.

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The light on his cell phone blinks. His secretary reaches for it and answers it. She listens with great attention. She hangs up and whispers something in the manager's ear and he reacts with shouts: THEATER MANAGER: (CONT'D) I beg your pardon? She repeats herself. The manager grabs his head. THEATER MANAGER: (CONT'D) Shit, shit, shit!!! DRIVER: What happened? SECRETARY: The performance has been canceled! THEATER MANAGER: Does this car have a catapult ready to throw me into space? SECRETARY: If it did I'd have used it already. THEATER MANAGER: Oh, what a horror. Do they know what they are doing to me?!? The manager grimaces. His secretary sits motionless, like a stuffed bird. The driver stares at their reflection in his rear view mirror. THEATER MANAGER: (CONT'D) Horrible, horrible. Premieres are never postponed, never! Death, OK, but not before a premiere... DRIVER: Someone died? SECRETARY: The director! THEATER MANAGER: What a disaster?!?! (turns to his secretary) He never had a talent for timing, never! And now he's gone and done this to me!

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SECRETARY: He did not do anything to you. THEATER MANAGER: (shouting) Then who? DRIVER: Maybe everything won't be so bad.... SECRETARY: For the director it can't get any worse. DRIVER: And the rehearsal; how was it? SECRETARY: Terrible. THEATER MANAGER: (waving his hand) Rehearsals are never any good! Actors only get aroused before a premiere. DRIVER: Come again? THEATER MANAGER: A long wait delays ejaculation. Do you understand the pressure of keeping your dick hard for an indefinite period of time? Oooooohhh (moaning) Oooooohhhh! DRIVER: Can anything be done? THEATER MANAGER: With the dicks? SECRETARY: With the actors!!!! THEATER MANAGER: And what? An actor's brain would be perfect if it came with a reset option. Their brains work all the time, grinding, grinding, grinding away...

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DRIVER: That’s a bad thing? THEATER MANAGER: It wouldn’t be if their dicks wouldn’t get softer and softer. Do you understand? What can be done? The theater manager lights a cigarette with nervous hands. His secretary takes turns looking at him, his cigarette and then the Driver. She tries signaling the manager that it is inappropriate to light up in the car. The manager leans over hissing: THEATER MANAGER: (CONT'D) I don't give a fuck! DRIVER: Your hand is shaking. The manager looks at his hand holding the cigarette. THEATER MANAGER: That's why I have two of them....one takes care of the other. ..... Cut ..... THE END OF THE ROAD /The driver meets himself as he could have been/ The Driver stops the car at the edge of a grove, at the bottom of a hill. A mist has settled. He climbs up the hill in order to see how much road is ahead. When he begins his return he sees an older gentleman a few feet off to the side. He stops in place and stares at the apparition like man. The stranger laughs: OLD MAN: Everything is ok, there is no need for you to stand here any longer. I'd be more than happy for you to join me. DRIVER: I don't want to be a bother, but this is a shortcut to my car. The stranger lets out a hearty laugh.

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OLD MAN: Of course it is; I cleaned the way. The driver's face, chalk white, drops. The old strange man continues: OLD MAN: (CONT'D) You look quite pale, like a vampire. Is it possible that you've been stalking me? A bit of new strength never hurts. But we're afraid of blood, are we not? DRIVER: Yes, I'm afraid of blood. OLD MAN: I know! DRIVER: How? OLD MAN: I am one of persons you should have been. DRIVER: Stop scaring me! Who are you? Be honest. OLD MAN: You're my early youth. I came to say hello DRIVER: Past? OLD MAN: I told you, I am one of those you should have been. DRIVER: Should have been? So, I won't be like you? OLD MAN: No. (smiling and stroking his face) Look at the face which has escaped trouble! Your face speaks something different...you'll choose your own path. DRIVER: Do I choose well? The old man shrugs.

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OLD MAN: Unknown and un-trodden paths are your way. I don't know much about them. DRIVER: How old are you? OLD MAN: Old men are switched off and on like electric lamps. We don't count anymore. DRIVER: Are you happy? OLD MAN: Not anymore! DRIVER: Why? OLD MAN: I waited for you for far too long. For a moment he keeps silent. DRIVER: (CONT'D) What are you doing now? OLD MAN: What I've always been doing...dreaming. DRIVER: What about? OLD MAN: Everything! Do you still dream? DRIVER: Sometimes! OLD MAN: Tell me. DRIVER: Today, I dreamed about my love. OLD MAN: To fall in love, have children, a happy home and friends?

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DRIVER: I'm afraid to look that far. OLD MAN: One thinks there is no end to happiness. DRIVER: And it's not like that? OLD MAN: Chasing happiness, man forgets about life and brings great misfortune on himself. DRIVER: What happened with you? OLD MAN: I lost you when you were still a child. We were strolling and suddenly, when I turned around, I saw that you had stopped on the road. You stood still, looking at me for quite some time and then you put your head and walked off in another direction. I shouted but you never looked back. That was the last time I saw you. DRIVER: What happened with you afterwards? OLD MAN: With me? Nothing. Without you I am nothing...a wandering soul…a memory of what I was. DRIVER: You're alone? OLD MAN: Oh, I wouldn't say that. I socialize with many, but how should I say it, one is alone the most in the company of others. Most often I spend time with the gentleman you were afraid to become. A very special person he is. DRIVER: Now, you're really scaring me. OLD MAN: Let's forget all this. You've forgotten the reason you were scared to live in him.

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DRIVER: I'm lost, completely confused. Mist is lowering and getting thicker, smothering. OLD MAN: Since we parted company I do the same thing every morning. I untie the ropes of the night and sail into the morning. In the evening, I untie the ropes of the day and sail into the night. This has been my way since the day you abandoned me. My days are filled without the slightest breath of wind, empty sails and dead seas. I start the engines, flip on the automatic pilot. I don't have the strength for anything else. I rest on the ropes and stay quiet. The driving wheel which turns my thoughts spins all the time. Shaking me and shaking me. I can't stop it...not even now. You're a good man. DRIVER: Not really. OLD MAN: Don't talk like that. I know you're trying hard. DRIVER: The other four billion try pretty hard as well. OLD MAN: I brought someone that wants to see you. She does not belong to me but she came to me. DRIVER: What are you talking about? OLD MAN: Too little of you has remained in me to manage. Luckily, god appeared at the right moment. DRIVER: God? You've met him? The driver hears a sound and turns in the direction where it came from. God appears from the mist. GOD: Do you remember? Your soul...my possession.

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DRIVER: (smiling) Somebody else said this too. GOD: (turning around uneasily) Forget about him, at least for now. Come with me! DRIVER: Where to? GOD: The gentleman you could have been spoke quite well. Someone needs you. (whispering) He's waiting for you. I had a small scare. I wasn't quite sure if I was still capable of wonders. For a moment I was scared, I thought I'd forgotten everything. However, everything is like a bicycle ride, you never forget. (after a pause) You loved her? DRIVER: Who? God looks at the old man staring at him. God embraces the driver and says to the old man: GOD: Go now! The old man wants to say something else to the driver but God waves him off. GOD: (CONT'D) Let it be! The old man bends his head and slopes off towards the woods. A voice startles them all. SATAN: More than your own life - why you don't say, driver? I shouldn't give you advice but sometimes I'm such an altruist I surprise myself. God, the Driver and the old man all stare at Satan in shock. Satan is at the edge of the woods leaning against a tree whose trunk was peeled back. Satan approaches the three of them, stopping near the old man who is completely depressed. SATAN: (CONT'D) What's your specialty number?

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OLD MAN: 407. SATAN: 407? An ordinary being; no specialty whatsoever. A screw easily replaced. Be gone! GOD: Wait a second, Satan! DRIVER: What do you mean by "ordinary being"? SATAN: If it was worth something it would be in you…what can I say…. (spreading his arms wide) Simple organism, the simplest of them all. (waves his hand) It's not worth mentioning. Go away, old man! The old man slumps his head and shoulders and starts slowly for the woods. The Driver wants to shout something but the old man is already disappearing in the mist. DRIVER: You're not fair! SATAN: Astray or not, all roads of love lead to the same point in the end. To disappointment! (addressing God) You installed your system incorrectly. Don't pout, admit your mistake. You gave everyone a big heart: men, women, peoples, ideas...you cooked it up and the valves came loose. (imitating God's voice) Do you think it was my will? GOD: Babble all you want, this is the last level you can reach. SATAN: You're a megalomaniac. Where does your need come from? There are no great loves, understand this once and for all. People are common place; it’s all in your head. Men are infantile, and women naive.

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GOD: Shut up! You're hyperactive. SATAN: And you're a bore! GOD: I shudder hearing something like that from you. SATAN: Do you know what the difference between passionate sex and undying love to the grave? Go on, tell me. (turning to the Driver) What do you have to say....lover? The Driver keeps quiet. SATAN: Oh c'mon now, fess up! You waste your brainpower in vain. I'll help you out. The difference between passionate sex and undying love to the grave is that the first lasts longer. GOD: Shame on you! You mock what is noblest in a human being. SATAN: Oh, shut up! Passion and pain are the only marks of spirituality in man.While man waits bleakly to receive a blessing for his contrition, life rumbles passed him in a flash. For all that passes him by, you leave him a rosary and stains of blood on his hands. God wants to say something but Satan waves him off and continues. SATAN: (continues without paying attention) You force them to repent and renounce the ounce of life that scratches them in passing. Your crimes are those of pain, while mine are of lust. Driver...you must choose! What will it be? The end is the same either way. (pointing at God) Canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t you see that he is just an ill-tempered rooster that imprisoned you in a ring, a cage bound with wire dripping blood.

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GOD: Driver, let’s go. Let’s leave this vulture. They begin to leave and God stops short. He points his finger at Satan. GOD: I saw what you did. SATAN: To who? GOD: To the one whose wings you snapped, and he had just arrived. SATAN: (surprised) The boy? GOD: (sharply) He’s not a boy! SATAN: Barack? GOD: Just remember, he is not a boy. SATAN: Boy. God stares at Satan, piercing him with his gaze. He puts his arm around the Driver… GOD: Let’s free ourselves of this company. DRIVER: Can we do that? GOD: Those that have renounced cannot reach this level…because of this their pagan tongues are ever the more gruesome the closer they get to the point they cannot cross. DRIVER: For real…? GOD: (with his shoe, he pulls a line in the dirt) From this

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point on begins a space of pure love. Satan, noticeably shorter than God and the Driver, is seen screaming, gesticulating maniacally and trying to make his way across the clearing. The wind is pushing him back. He tries and tries to no avail; bending over and moving invisible obstacles… God leans toward the Driver GOD: I am forever with you. And when it seems that I am not, when you are alone, I am here, within you. Everywhere! Near your windpipe, below your kidney, behind your spleen, in the veins pumping the blood to and from your heart, wrapped around your spine, in every one of your cells…your body is my home. DRIVER: And what about him? GOD: Unfortunately his tentacles are everywhere; he is going to hunt you like he does everyone else in my house. Remember one thing: a pure and innocent heart is off limits to him. You’ll soon find out for yourself! Satan is trying to scrape the wind with his hands, as if trying to rid himself of chains that are holding him back. His voice reaches them, but quieter and quieter… SATAN: Bad mouthing me, you old goat, always bad mouthing me….you want to scatter back to Heaven, I’ll gladly hold the ladder for you… (his voice is fading, he is unable to cross the line God drew in the dirt) Keep on bad mouthing me, you old goat…you satisfied yet? God and the Driver appear on a clearing, God gently places his arm around the Driver’s shoulder; he nods his head as a sign for the Driver to continue on alone. The Driver continues on and notices a white silhouette emerging from the forest. He rubs his eyes, stopping only when the creature stops immediately in front of him. The Driver is in disbelief. DRIVER: Is it really you? She takes a couple of steps and stops in front of him. The Driver stutters:

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DRIVER: (CONT'D) Tell me I'm not dreaming! GIRL: I said that I'd return. DRIVER: (stuttering)...like a miracle maker. GIRL: You are my miracle, a miracle like no other. Are you mad at me? DRIVER: How could I ever be? GIRL: I drove fast. When Christmas is without snow, it's so boring. I rushed. DRIVER: (touching her head) You cut your hair? GIRL: I sold it to a wig maker. It was enough for gas…I had to see you. DRIVER: How…? GIRL: I can't speak about it. DRIVER: Don’t hide anything from me. GIRL: Leave it be. DRIVER: You forgot something...there are two of us, but among the stars we are one. GIRL: There was ice. (she shrugs her shoulders) I slide. (She tries to smile) Not believing that she is really in front of him, his shaky palm reaches for and touches her cheek.

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INT. FLASHBACK - IN THE BACK SEAT OF THE CAR

The girl is driving, thinking about how alone she is. She sings along with the songs coming from the radio. She stops when she hears a voice from the back seat. SATAN: V.O. Did you feel dawn coming in? She snaps awake and feels as if her heart is going to jump out of her chest. She places her hand on her chest. She turns around and sees a figure on the back seat. On his head is a wig made from her hair. The figure is nibbling on the split ends of hair. Her eyes widen, she barely whispersâ&#x20AC;Ś GIRL: Who are you? SATAN: V.O. You put on everything you thought would be necessary for him to undress you. She is stricken by fear. The voice continues: SATAN: V.O. (CONT'D) You scripted how the entire play is supposed to unfold. Have you chosen the music? The right words? A course of action? What about makeup? Your hair? Did you take a shower? Perfume? Did you even spray some on those secret places? GIRL: (afraid) Who are you? SATAN: V.O. You brushed your teeth a few times, even flossed, rinsed your mouth with that nasty liquidâ&#x20AC;Śyeech! You flattened the sheet on your bed, even though you don't know what for. Your only dilemma was: thongs or the cotton panties you peed in when you were just a little kid driving in his car? Now, you look at your watch and plan every detail for God knows what time. You've only prepared tears of joy, but what about if things don't go according to plan? You ask who I am? I am the King of Joy! GIRL: You are...

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SATAN: (showing himself) Exactly, little girl. So listen to me well. What I'm going to say to you is very important. The most beautiful part of what the two of you had is already behind you. Everything that might follow will never shine with such beauty. I never expected for you to disappear forever when you left...to never return. I knew how you would return, that is why I am here. GIRL: (looks confused) SATAN: You're much younger than him. 30 years to be precise. The smoothness of your youth contrasts greatly with the wrinkled skin, slackened muscles, dark shadows and flabby stomach of his existence. You're the embodiment of beauty. Yet you have no use for young men with taught skin, smooth cheeks and an athletic build. Your subconscious relishes such a clash. You would press your smooth cheek against his jagged, thousand times shaved, cheek, as well as your small, round breasts. You'd place your tongue on his, and breathe your sweet bubble gum breath into his mouth. GIRL: Stop it. SATAN: You'll offer him your belly. You suspect a secret kind of life solution seeps from his dark wilderness of a life. A necessary pre-requisite for an artist...am I right? GIRL: He is something you will never be. SATAN: Don't talk like that to me. I am an artist, little girl, not that confused creation. Do not speak to me of art! GIRL: You talk in riddles because you don't know what love is! There is no art without love. What you produce is nothing more than scabs on the clean skin of artistry.

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SATAN: Silence! GIRL: Rashes and scabs. SATAN: I told you to keep quiet! I don’t understand? ME! ME! SATAN: (yelling) GO ON, TELL ME THEN! SATAN: A hallucination. My child, love is a hallucination. GIRL: If that’s true, why not create it then? Why do you deal only in destruction? She laughs loudly in defiance; it bursts from her like a flame. As she laughs Satan squirms and squirms as though he has lost his power, he continues but sounding quite unsure of himself… SATAN: (CONT'D) You laugh at me? Let it be so! Nevertheless, you're a miraculous creation. I will tell you now…you've broken your vow. GIRL: With who? SATAN: With me! GIRL: I made no vows to you. What could I have in common with you? SATAN: As I see you again here, I don’t want to let you go GIRL: You don’t want to let me go. You’re nothing more than a silly creation. She laughs.

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SATAN: (CONT'D) You laugh at me and I am offering you a kingdom. Something I have never offered to anyone else. I place it at your feet, across the entire road...Only you can teach me…. GIRL: What can I teach you? SATAN: About love… GIRL: (laughing uncontrollably) Satan in love!!! SATAN: Stop laughing at me! (grabs her by the hands) GIRL: Don't make me laugh and let go of my hands! Leave me...let go of the wheel, please. (wrestling with Satan for the wheel) SATAN: Don’t resist. GIRL: Leave me alone. What are you doing…ooohh…Stop that. SATAN: I brought you him and I'm going to take you away from him! GIRL: Stop it, you stuck up faggot! SATAN: Oh, I'm a faggot now. Weep some more my little beauty, you might just wake up the dead buried along the road. GIRL: (can’t shake his grip) Let go of my hands…you…you… She throws herself on him, the car dances across the frozen road. They wrestle. Silence. A slug is crossing the road. It leaves a slimy trail behind it, its radiance stronger than the thin,

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glazed frost forming a crust on the asphalt. The devastating sound of twisted metal stops the slug’s progress for a brief moment. The slug’s antennas turn in the direction of the racing car momentarily, the slug continues on. Somewhere in the distance, beyond the horizon, fire and smoke gush forth, painting the peak of the horizon with a rosy complexion. ..... Cut ..... EXT. - FOREST - THE DRIVER AND THE GIRL The Driver’s hand is still touching her hair and face. Her eyes are closed for a long time. As she opens them a light smile spreads across her face…. DRIVER: Those in love need to believe in miracles. GIRL: You dreamed of me, and that’s a miracle. DRIVER: I don’t like remembering dreams. GIRL: Why? DRIVER: The last time I dreamed of you I was a tree. GIRL: (confused) DRIVER: (CONT'D) You would run and place your head against my trunk. My wooden skin did not breathe, because trees don't breathe. You embraced me, rubbed your face on me, this left little scars on your face. You wanted to warm yourself up, but trees are cold. You would strike me with your fists, trees never reciprocate. A tree is always a tree. You always ran away crying. GIRL: How does the dream end? DRIVER: It never ends.

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GIRL: But you woke up? People always wake up. DRIVER: I haven't woken up. I dream on and on. GIRL: The same dream? DRIVER: Afterwards, you would caress my face, but then it was made of glass... She hugs and kisses him. GIRL: Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s not made of glass now. The driver cries DRIVER: (staring at her) You've grown up. The first time I saw you, you were just a little girl. GIRL: Do you like me like this? DRIVER: You look like a fairy. GIRL: I am a fairy. DRIVER: An angel? GIRL: No. Angels are somewhere in between love and understanding. DRIVER: Are you a good fairy? GIRL: (CONT'D) (laughing) I do naughty things too...sometimes. Fairies are not much different from people in this regard. We can't stand not liking someone.

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DRIVER: Otherwise, you are good? GIRL: (smiling seductively) Do you want to take me with you? DRIVER: (trying to turn the joke back on her) Do you want me to want you? GIRL: When problems arise... you will understand. I'll be your dog. DRIVER: Dogs can always be chased away. GIRL: I'll follow you at a distance. DRIVER: You don't take no for an answer. GIRL: Dogs don't care for that; we're here to follow our master. DRIVER: Am I your master? GIRL: My love is in your heart, it is my master and it brings me to you. A moment ago you remembered: there are two of us, but among the stars we are one. They embrace. The Driver speaks first. DRIVER: What if morning separates us again? GIRL: (shrugging) The continents have split, so what? DRIVER: Tell me, where you come from...is it more beautiful than here?

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GIRL: Just so you know, even the sky farts. It's able to fart on entire countries and whole continents and scald them with the fire from its ass. Never believe that any place other than the one beneath your feet is any better. For you, the only important thing is that I am here. And for me, the only important thing is that you are here with me. That we are together! Is that why you came? DRIVER: I had to see you. GIRL: To be free, just you and I. The Driver looks at her as if he does not know what to answer, he nods his head and whispers… DRIVER: Yes. GIRL: You did the right thing. DRIVER: Until yesterday I believed that I could read everything from faces and palms. GIRL: And then a familiar face comes along with open palms and you stand there helpless. Death is inside all of us, my love. Children carry little death, and grownups gigantic death. In children its inaudible and asleep, in grownups it shakes, it wants to be freed… DRIVER: That’s the way it has to be, doesn’t it? GIRL: You’ve learned everything, tough guy. They embrace each other, like people who long ago ceased believing they would ever meet again. Like those who stop believing that miracles exist. A white deer appears on the edge of the wood clearing, near the place where the girl stood moments ago. Deep in the woods white horses graze. Brown squirrels chase each through tree tops. Clouds are parting in the sky. A boy lights a fire near an old water-mill. A small girl is

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cutting wild rose branches on the steps of an old ruined house. She adds leaves of thyme and places it all in a linen bundle. A man passes near her and enters the house, when he comes out he is much older. The small girl talks to herself as she ties up her bags. SMALL GIRL: When we separate them, placing some thyme into two small bags, those who love each other will love for eternity, but only if they should have their small bags beside them. If one is lost, its charm will disappear and only memories will remain. Lovers should always keep them safe. A white deer walks onto the clearing in front of the driver and the girl. They have never seen such a powerful deer. It stands and watches them. After a few moments the deer bows its head, with enormous antlers it signals the pair to follow it. The deer turns and heads off towards the woods. The driver and the girl follow. A dense mist surrounds them, the deer halts for a moment, waiting for them to catch up. As the mist clears the deer stops once more and roared with great power, shaking leaves from the trees around them. The deer rears back on its hind legs, and with several jumps disappears into the dense forest. Along the horizon, in front of the driver and girl, a bluish haze is greeting the dawn. Holding hands they continue on their path, down a long slope to a rock shaped like a sleeping man, a stone God. They climb the oddly shaped rock and retire into one of its recesses and gaze at the horizon. As dawn arrives the air turns a warm red. The redness condenses until it bursts into light. Beyond the horizon, instead of a rising sun, earth was rising into view. The earth, a hundred times larger than the sun and wrapped in a bluish haze, rose above the horizon. Continents could be recognized, as could seas and oceans. The North Pole, the Himalayas, the Great Wall of China, Alps, lakes, rivers and erupting volcanoes. From a distance the driver and the girl look like two dots against a majestic backdrop. The driver picks up a small stone and tosses it at the floating earth. The small stone falls into one of its oceans. A splash is heard and ripples spin out from its center. They heard the hum of rushing waves. The girl throws a stone and it lands in the desert. A dust cloud rises, and the sound of thundering hooves belonging to escaping herds is heard. They continue to throw stonesâ&#x20AC;Ś The girl watches as he takes a small bundle, tied with red tape, from his pocket. He offers it like a sacrifice to the big blue planet. The girl takes her small bag out as well. As if carried by a mysterious force, the two bags rise from the hands of the driver and the girl and orbit around the giant earth like two satellites. The small bags disappear behind the other side of the planet. The driver turns towards the girl and sees that she is no longer there. He is alone.

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When the driver returns to the car and tries to place the key in the lock he feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns around and there is no one. The wrinkles on his shoulder reveal a caressing hand. We can tell because a smile comes to his face. As he sits behind the wheel of the car he places the key in the ignition and guns the engine. A dull roar is heard under the engine hood. An invisible hand presses the button to retract the sun roof. A smile appears on his face as he looks to the sky. The sun has set fire to bushes and greenery at the edge of the horizon. Directly above his head there is a white cloud. Not too far away is a very small black cloud, it gets smaller and smaller until it can no longer be seen. He laughs and squints as he feels the touch of a hand and a kiss on his cheek. He gets out of the car and walks into a field. His eyes are closed when he whispersâ&#x20AC;Ś DRIVER: Goodbye, my loveâ&#x20AC;Ś The fog has lifted and the old Mercedes glides down the narrow mountain road towards the valley. As he eases into the valley he sees a large group of people standing alongside the road, waving at him to stop. The driver slows down, recognizing his passengers from the day before. Among them were many he did not recognize. He waves at them and presses down on the gas. He finally realizes that he can go on alone. He was clear of mind, as if cleansed by morning dew. The babbling he heard earlier fades as though it never existed. It was drowned out by the sound coming from under the engineâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s hood, a roar produced by four valves on eight cylinders. A large dust cloud rises, wrapping itself around the people on the road, freezing them in time. The car speeds down the empty road. The film credits are rolling across the horizon, the driver, in a cloud of dust, brings the old Mercedes to a stop. He shifts into reverse and drives backwards about 20 meters. He sticks his hand out of the now open door of the Mercedes and picks up a single book laying on the side of the road.

END

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Screenplay: Igor Gluić Private: Igor Gluić Kralja Zvonimira 16 Zadar 23000 CROATIA

E-mail: igorgluic@gmail.com Mobitel: +385-98-273-706