Beach

FRANCOISE : One night I will get the perfect photograph.

She presses the cable release.

FRANCOISE : Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six.

She lets the shutter close.

FRANCOISE : Take a look.

Richard leans over and squints down the viewfinder.

The sky is framed. Francoise leans into the frame.

Richard draws back.

RICHARD : You realize that in the eternity of space, there is a planet,
just like this one, where you are photographing back towards us.
You're photographing yourself.

FRANCOISE : Incredible

RICHARD : There are infinite worlds out there, where anything that can happen does happen.

FRANCOISE : So on one you are rich, on another poor. On one you are a murderer, on another the victim.

RICHARD : Exactly

FRANCOISE : Richard, you know something -

She hands him the cable release while she adjusts the camera.

FRANCOISE : That is just the kind of pretentious bullshit that Englishmen and Americans always say to French girls so that they can sleep with them.

RICHARD : Sorry. I thought I was doing quite well.

FRANCOISE : It's just the sky, Richard.


She presses his thumb down on the cable release, her hand around his.

FRANCOISE : Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept…

EXT. NIGHT. SKY.

Francoise voice fades away over an image of the night sky.

Time lapse: the sky rapidly changes to day.

RICHARD (Voice Over) : When you develop an infatuation for someone, you always find a reason to believe that this is exactly the person for you. It doesn't need to be a good reason, a bad one will do just as well. Taking photographs of the night sky, for example: in the long run that's just the kind of dumb irritating habit that would cause you to split up. But at the time - it's the charming eccentricity you've been searching for all these years.

Suggested read : Beach , the script

Suggested rythm: Goodbye blue sky, Pink Floyd

Tonight I can write the saddest lines

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example,'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voide. Her bright body. Her inifinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my sould is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.

Suggested read : Neruda,Pablo

Suggested rythm: R.D. , Kishore - Hamein Tumse Pyar Kitna - what else

Regime de Vivre

I rise at eleven, I dine about two,
I get drunk before seven, and the next thing I do,
I send for my whore, when for fear of a clap,
I spend in her hand, and I spew in her lap;
Then we quarrel and scold, till I fall fast asleep,
When the bitch growing bold, to my pocket does creep.

Then slyly she leaves me, and to revenge the affront,
At once she bereaves me of money and cunt.
If by chance then I wake, hot-headed and drunk,
What a coil do I make for the loss of my punk!
I storm and I roar, and I fall in a rage.
And missing my whore, I bugger my page.
Then crop-sick all morning I rail at my men,
And in bed I lie yawning till eleven again.

Suggested read : Lord John Wilmot

Suggested rythm: Eric Clapton - Cocaine

Bang bang, my baby shot me down

I was five and he was six
We rode on horses made of sticks
He wore black and I wore white
He would always win the fight

Bang bang, he shot me down
Bang bang, I hit the ground
Bang bang, that awful sound
Bang bang, my baby shot me down

Seasons came and changed the time
When I grew up I called him mine
He would always laugh and say
Remember when we used to play

Bang bang, I shot you down
Bang bang, you hit the ground
Bang bang, that awful sound
Bang bang, I used to shoot you down

Music played and people sang
Just for me the church bells rang

Now he's gone I don't know why
Until this day, sometimes I cry
He didn't even say goodbye
He didn't take the time to lie

Bang bang, he shot me down
Bang bang, I hit the ground
Bang bang, that awful sound
Bang bang, my baby shot me down

Suggested read : Kill Bill ,script

Suggested rythm: Nancy Sinatra - Bang bang, my baby shot me down

Phenomenal woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Suggested read : Maya Angelou

Suggested rythm: Baby it's You - Beatles

A Dog Has Died

My dog has died.
I buried him in the garden
next to a rusted old machine.
Some day I'll join him right there,
but now he's gone with his shaggy coat,
his bad manners and his cold nose,
and I, the materialist, who never believed
in any promised heaven in the sky
for any human being,
I believe in a heaven I'll never enter.
Yes, I believe in a heaven for all dogdom
where my dog waits for my arrival
waving his fan-like tail in friendship.
Ai, I'll not speak of sadness here on earth,
of having lost a companion
who was never servile.
His friendship for me, like that of a porcupine
withholding its authority,
was the friendship of a star, aloof,
with no more intimacy than was called for,
with no exaggerations:
he never climbed all over my clothes
filling me full of his hair or his mange,
he never rubbed up against my knee
like other dogs obsessed with sex.
No, my dog used to gaze at me,
paying me the attention I need,
the attention required
to make a vain person like me understand
that, being a dog, he was wasting time,
but, with those eyes so much purer than mine,
he'd keep on gazing at me
with a look that reserved for me alone
all his sweet and shaggy life,
always near me, never troubling me,
and asking nothing.
Ai, how many times have I envied his tail
as we walked together on the shores of the sea
in the lonely winter of Isla Negra
where the wintering birds filled the sky
and my hairy dog was jumping about
full of the voltage of the sea's movement:
my wandering dog, sniffing away
with his golden tail held high,
face to face with the ocean's spray.
Joyful, joyful, joyful,
as only dogs know how to be happy
with only the autonomy
of their shameless spirit.
There are no good-byes for my dog who has died,
and we don't now and never did lie to each other.
So now he's gone and I buried him,
and that's all there is to it.


Suggested read : Neruda,Pablo (Translated by Alfred Yankauer)

Suggested rythm: Koi Hota Jis Ko Apna - Salil,Kishore

I wish I was a hunter

I wish I was a hunter
in search of different food
I wish I was the animal
which fits into that mood
I wish I was a person
with unlimited breath
I wish I was a heartbeat
that never comes to rest

I wish I was a hunter
in search of different food
I wish I was the animal
which fits into that mood

I wish I was a stranger
who understands the sky
I wish I was a starship
when Saturn's flying by
I wish I was a princess
with armies at her hand
I wish I was a ruler
who'd make them understand

[Chorus:]
Never-- I wish...
Never say Never
I wish...
NEVER
I wish...
--SAY NEVER

I wish I was a writer
who sees what is yet unseen
I wish I was a prayer
expressing what I mean
I wish I was a forest
of trees that do not hide
I wish I was a clearing
No secrets left inside--yeah

I wish I was a person
with unlimited breath
I wish I was a heartbeat
that never comes to rest

I wish I was a forest
of trees that do not hide
I wish I was a clearing
no secrets left inside
I wish I was a stranger
who understands the sky
I wish I was a starship
when Saturn's flying by


I wish I was a hunter
in search of different food
I wish I was the animal
which fits into that mood

Suggested read : Script,Run Lola Run

Suggested rythm: Soundtrack, The Matrix