Heaven on Earth: The Rise and Fall of Socialism Page #4

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the last fifty years.

We see ourselves in war

like in a mirror.

One can buy time.

It needs courage

in order to think.

Love your neighbor?

Ridiculous.

You would have to

love yourself enough

to not do bad

to your neighbor.

Today that becomes impossible.

If you follow the law

or if you break it...

Don't say all this, dad.

And I ask you:

Why don't you love us?

Ideas separate us.

But dreams bring us closer...

No, nightmares.

Because there's love and pride

in the blood of the father...

and thus hate.

So what have you found today

to piss us off?

I love my brother, first of all.

We've just debated brotherhood.

And liberty.

- Liberty, before.

And once the hour of equality comes

I will speak to you of sh*t.

Okay, Flo.

But why don't you love us?

Excuse me, Miss...

Excuse me? Miss, hello..

We want to go to the Cote d'Azur.

Is this the right direction?

Are we on the right way

to the Cote d'Azur?

Straight? Left? Right?

Unbelievable. Scheiss French!

- Scheiss France!

Ach, Germany.

Go, mother...

Go, mom...

Yes. To keep space and

time intact, I have lied.

I neglect to live them.

That's a bit unfair.

That's a bit unfair.

But for me, that seems

to be the way I do it.

I always think that I'm elsewhere

- Forget it.

I always think that I'm elsewhere

- Forget it.

and that no particular moment has

any importance. - Forget it.

Nothing else?

There's a figure, the mother.

For her, it doesn't matter

if she has a life at all.

If one considers the fact to

have a life as a fact by itself.

She will never ask herself,

not once, if she is still alive.

She will never have the idea

to just ask herself

why and how she exists.

After all, she is not aware

that she is this figure

because she is never,

not for a single moment

separated from her role.

She doesn't know that she has one.

The blood of the mother,

full of hate...

loves and remains.

Is this Garage Martin?

Is this Garage Martin?

Is this Garage Martin?

Is this Garage Martin?

Flo, what do we have to tell them?

We don't speak to people

who use the verb "to be".

Are you working here?

Yes, but I don't have a contract.

Lets speak to your parents.

BALZAC:

LOST ILLUSIONS:

I'm leaving.

I'll return to the Midi.

And our comrades?

And our comrades?

It will be them who decide.

They will come.

It's for the elections.

I'm filming...

- Forget, my dear, forget.

We have an appointment with them.

- Forget it, madam.

Only two or three minutes

for a declaration.

Who will present it?

- But forget it, forget it.

But your parents have

made an appointment.

What parents?

- We're not making this up.

No, he wanted to say:

What kind of parents?

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