La Fleur du mal

I remember. I was furious.
I noticed. So was your mother.
And my father.

And Aunt Line too.
That surprised me.

To think I stayed here so long
with all my problems...

Going to Paris
wouldn't have solved them.

It did, as you can see.
After four years in America,
I come back here,
I kiss you
- well, I snog you -

and I feel fine.
I snogged you. And America
has nothing to do with it.

Time has passed
and feelings have matured.

Did you sleep around a lot there?
Reasonably so.
It's more heavy-petting
than anything.

But still...
you can talk them round.

Have you slept with boys?
I've loved you since I was little,
so I'll answer.

Yes, I've slept with two boys,
once each,
and I found no pleasure in it.
It made me sick.
So I stopped.
I thought of you.
Perhaps I'm frigid.
If you want, we could...
I'm sorry.
It's okay, it helps to talk.
Can you breathe in here?
You arrived this morning
and you're stifling already?

Missing the Rocky Mountain air?
Go ahead, make fun.
But as soon as my father
showed me round, before even,

as soon as I entered this house,
I felt I'd never been away.

But I'm asking you...