1:12:01
You wrote it for a reason...
1:12:07
If only you'd come out of
1:12:10
that shell
you hide behind all the time.
1:12:17
You're starting to look like
a schoolmistress.
1:12:20
Going to bed with books
instead of flesh and blood.
1:12:23
Don't get me wrong.
1:12:26
I like
1:12:27
men, all right?
1:12:28
Don't be so pigheaded.
1:12:30
You want me to tell you
it's a great novel.
1:12:34
Who told you I wanted
to write a great novel?
1:12:37
Or that I could write
a great novel?
1:12:41
No, sweetie.
1:12:42
Look, this is a great novel.
1:12:47
And this.
1:12:49
And this.
1:12:52
These are writers.
1:12:55
And brilliant.
1:12:56
Not me.
1:12:57
I just try and write.
I know I'm not brilliant.
1:13:00
I don't need to be told that
1:13:02
by some esoteric book reader.
1:13:05
I may not know how to write
but I know how to read.
1:13:18
And worst of all,
1:13:20
you're right.
1:13:27
How can you keep all that
pent-up rage just for yourself?
1:13:31
Let it go,
1:13:32
get it all out,
express yourself.
1:13:36
I'll stay anyway because you need
somebody to take it all out on.
1:13:41
It was 9 o'clock on a night
like any other in Madrid.
1:13:45
Two young men
whose motorbike had broken down
1:13:48
were returning home when they saw
an apartment building in flames
1:13:52
on downtown Carranza Street.
1:13:54
People milled around,
listening to the cries
1:13:58
as those trapped inside anxiously
awaited the arrival of firefighters.