The Diary of Lady M

Synopsis: She's a beautiful gifted performer, but her work is not the sort that invites popular acclaim. Despite the fact that she is unlikely to become famous, she enjoys her life as a performer who lives just outside the mainstream. Awaiting her backstage one evening is a Spanish painter who has seen her show and wants to make her acquaintance. They walk around Paris getting to know one another, and then the painter returns to Spain. Something about the man has moved Lady M to passion: she flies to meet him in Barcelona and he shows her his beloved Catalonia. This time, however, their relationship is as much about passionate lovemaking as it is about compatibility. So smitten is Lady M with her new man that when she discovers that the painter has a black wife and child, she is only a little bit taken aback and she invites his whole family to join her in Paris. Surprisingly, they do, and the number of people sharing their love and sexual appetites changes from two to three.
Genre: Drama
120 min

Diego came into the "Kismet"

because of a thunderstorm.

He knew nothing

about the place.

That night, a women's group played.

"Lady M",

rather warriors than women.

He was in Paris...

to exhibit a painting.

He didn't visit the "Kismet"

out of boredom.

It was a stroke of fate.

For him. For me.

Stop it, I'm counting.

Yes, we want our money.

Silence, Please...

It will go bad.

Give me my dough.

It's thousand francs,

Only 1000 francs?

That wasn't the deal.

Are they comfortable?

I didn't mean to scare you.

I've never knelt in front of a man,

What a strange feeling.

I forgot to say goodbye.

See you tomorrow.

If he doesn't behave...

the Devil will shaft him in the arse!

What's that? A prophecy?

It must hurt terribly!

You find that funny, huh? You

don't have to perform every night,

with a broken Speaker system...

lousy contracts...


that must be paid...

girls who never earn enough...

and an owner, who is a vampire.

Damn it!

These guys drain you

for all your energy.

And you're giving and giving...

a real bruise.

I saw the show,

I mean a part of it...

I often walk home.

I like it.

Paris looks like an

Operetta scenery.

I agree about the scenery,

"Operetta" sounds a little exaggerated.

It had stopped raining.

We were encircled by the night.

Each followed his steps,

and sometimes they met.

H e asked me for my perfume.

I stammered...

I couldn't say...

it was the smell of a woman who

had sweat too much on stage.

He smiled and said,

it reminded him of his childhood,

of the patio of his grandfather,

where he acted as if he

followed the conversation,

but where he enjoyed...

all smells from the earth...

and jasmine at dusk.

What's your name?


I have no name.

My name is...

Lady M,

like the group.

When I was small,

I never slept...

before my mother put

something at the bed end.

This is good...

He looked at me.

And you,

how were you as a child?

I looked at this stranger who

seemed to know more than me...

about my child secrets,

my woman's secrets...

and the black sky of Paris.

What is it?

The sounds of Paris.

I walked through Paris today

and recorded it.

You don't paint with the eyes,

but with the ears?


What is it?

The bell of Pre-Lachaise

when it closes.

You also walk through the cemeteries?


Life's for walking.

And if you don't walk?

I wait for the dust to fall down.

What does that mean?

I think it was Leonardo da Vinci,

or another oddball like him,

always entered his studio

through a trapdoor.

That made the dust...

and the color pigments wirl up.

Then he waited an hour,

absolutely motionless,

until it had fallen down again.

I spend most of my time

in my studio in Barcelona.

I came to Paris for three days,

for an exhibition.

I exhibit in a group of painters,

but I'm not member of a group.

I thought the morning

would never come.

I was wrong,

even if we didn't

notice it coming.

We didn't feel sleepy,

although we had walked all night.

We were simply... stunned.

We were completely high.

You have a beautiful coat.

I stole it from a painter,

who's successful than me.

So you're a thief.

- Yes.

- But you're not a soul thief?

- We'll see.

Because there such people...

There are many soul thieves.

There are many small

soul thieves, you know.

Have you met many?


Open your mouth.

My life's best breakfast.

If you come to Barcelona

you know where to find me.

I followed his head

hovering over the crowd,

like the head of a swimmer

over the water.

Then he was gone.

Then I bought flowers

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    "The Diary of Lady M" STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 24 Jun 2021. <>.

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