no, thanks. i am off on a stroll.
sorry . . .
thank you very much.
i live nearby, two blocks up, would you mind coming along with me?
you will only have to browse.
oh, yes.  turn the light on.
who?
so he's dead.
no.
i am interested in you. what are you like? do you mind describing yourself?
i am only smiling, because of the way you're looking at me.
thanks for helping me cross.
she helped me cross the street and i invited her in to read me the newspaper . . .
everything awful that's had to happen to me has. now, all that's left is for me to enjoy life . . .
i would like to add a final epilogue. it may not be necessary, but i'd like to write it.
you will have it by tomorrow, don't worry.
ernesto martel has died.
it's been so long since we've spoken of him!
and it's monday! diego, you don't have to run for me. we are not in a hurry.
you'll have it by tonight, don't worry.
i don't know if i'll know how to. i was thinking of developing a story inspired by arthur miller's son.
one day, miller was giving a conference in defense of a mentally retarded man, who had been condemned to death, after what was believed to be a forced confession. among those present was his mentally handicapped son, who was integrally involved with organizations that aided all sorts of disabled people. the son was very proud to finally be sharing something with his father. at the end of the conference, he approached the stage and held him in an embrace that must have seemed endless to arthur miller, who did not know how to extract himself from this mentally handicapped man; imagine, it would not have been politically correct, least of all given the situation in which miller found himself. then the stranger let go of him and told him: "i am
we change the names, the story is not about the writer's miserliness, but about the strength of the son who survives without the least bit of rancor toward the father who has ignored him his entire life. it is a story of troubles overcome and of inherent goodness. there aren't those many good men that one can write about.
i can't bear them.  it's true, it's true i said all that, but this wouldn't exactly be a biopic.
diego, go to the end of the document.
i was going to read an alice munro story on the mp3.
who is it?
ray x? there's no such a name.
what do you want?
it's your first film?
it's none of your business.
will you stand there all day?
find it out. she is a well-known production director.
tell me.
yes.  .
i will speak to him.  and let you know.
have you seen him?
hello mr. x. please, have a seat.
thank you.
is that so? you must be the only one.
it would seem that way.
yes . . . i lost track of him some time ago.
whose?
films turn out well or badly. the reason is always a mystery. . but tell me about the story you want to write.
why does the son desire revenge?
when you say he is powerful, what kind of power are you referring to?
i get it. i am afraid i am not the writer you are looking for.
it's too personal.
thanks, but no. and now, if you don't mind.
in my case, that would be a miracle.
did you overhear that?
look through the pictures of the `94 shoot. some of the photographs must have the date on it.
who?
it's a 16mm. are you sure it's him?
what am i saying?
it's a radio microphone. he is asking me to wear it and i am refusing it.
ernesto martel's son.
you can put them away now.
i am training and i don't work at night, nor do i drug myself.
that i take care of myself, with the fanaticism of an older, handicapped person.
yes, i am. all of us who survive a critical physical injury are. there is no other way.
why so?
you want to donate blood?
yes. it has a good ring.
it's true.
your mother would like that story.
they control various industries. for example, the one responsible for dark sunglasses.
protected by the sunscreen, they can function all day.  the lotion must be as dense as armour.
what a great opening! we also need a love story.
like in "cat people", a love story between beings of different species.
but they must like sex, right?
why?
aha.
and her breasts?
and when she sucks his dick?
and how does he react? a man may do without kissing, but it's very rough not to have your cock sucked.
i like your story very much, diego.
no. this one was your idea, and you'll author it. i'll be your sparring partner, for all the times you've done the same for me.
what hospital are you taking him to?
his uncle. i am on my way.
i am here to see diego garcia. he's just been admitted.
i am here to see diego garcia.
yes.  i'm his uncle, and his godfather.
in a coma?
but, what has happened?!
my god! but diego is a very healthy boy.
if that's the case, i'll wait.
i'd rather wait.
yes. guide me to a place where i can sit, please.
he only has a mother and, at the moment, she is working outside madrid.  i would prefer to call her myself.  i don't want to alarm her, unless he is truly in a grave condition.
yes, of course.
how are you?
i don't know. she wanted to hurry back, but i convinced her to continue with the location scouting. at some point you'll have to call her.
are you asleep?
do you want to talk?
would you like me to speak?
i say so in order to distract you. when i was young, before i got into making movies, i was very good at telling stories.
she's afraid of him?
she didn't explain why?
it's a long story.
we met him.  in an office we had rented in preparation for my new film, about fourteen years ago.
ernesto martel offered to produce the movie. your mother didn't want him to. she was waiting for a subsidy from the ministry and an advance sale to television, but that would take months and i was suddenly in a great hurry to begin shooting.
do you want to go back home and return to the "donate blood" story?
without realizing, a month had elapsed.  i knew that sooner or later we would have to return, but we kept postponing it. i was only worried about you and your mother. i had not even said goodbye and you were still suffering from your allergy problem when we left.  i can imagine judit was furious with me.
i was planning to return soon to finish the editing.  and to explain things to your mother. but magdalena decided she'd wait for me on the island. she couldn't stand the thought of seeing ernesto again.
no.
she was pissed, i suppose.
i was the demon, diego. and i am sorry. i suppose i behaved selfishly, but i am not sure i had a choice.
the fact is she never did, and we've never spoken of it. neither one of us has broached the topic.
me? curiosity was killing me! for two days i called both your mother and luis non-stop, the editor , but neither of them answered! so i decided to return to madrid the next day so that i could witness what was happening for myself!
mateo is dead, judit.
we're here, judit!
let's go, dieguito. give me your hand.
no. we must obey your mother.  you've had enough wind for one day.
play "elevator to the gallows" and take a look at the ending.
yes. since i know them by heart, i can visualize the action.
yes. but you'd have to describe the action. your mother used to describe some to me, some time ago.
i would like to "watch" one by tarantino or scorsese, and also some asian cinema.
that's "girls and suitcases"!
turn up the volume!
they're terrible!
how could i have thought these takes were the good ones! what was i thinking!
may i come in?
luis, the editor, sent it to me six years ago. at that time i didn't even bother to open it, i didn't want to know anything about him. i am now thinking
call him, please!
it doesn't matter.
oh, i'm sorry.
could i speak to luis, please?
oh, i am so sorry.  i had no idea!
mateo blanco. luis edited all my films.
the one i know is nieves, the first one.
i am sorry to hear about luis' death. i would have liked to speak to him.
you have no idea how sorry i am!
my editor. i just found out he died six years ago.
not long before he died he sent me this notebook. but i didn't want to know anything about him, i also didn't know he was dying.  and i put it away.  until today.  his wife just told me he would have liked to speak to me, that was the purpose of sending me the notebook.  but i didn't give him the chance.
no. never.
no, no.  you're heading out?
i didn't know she was arriving.
it's my birthday?
yes. a day like today, fifty-one years ago, i entered the world.