The Unbearable Lightness of Being Page #2

Sabina's. In her studio.

And you were making love to her.

In that big bed of hers.

You made me stand by a wall...

and not move at all.

You made me watch.

And I had such pain from seeing you...

that I started to pierce needles

under my fingernails...

to stop the pain in my heart.

It hurt so much.

Why did you do it to me?

It was just a dream.

Try to sleep.

-I can't sleep.

-Yes, you can. Come here.

I can't fall asleep.

You can sleep. Sleep in my arms.

Like a baby bird.

Like a broom among brooms...

in a broom closet.

Like a tiny parrot.

Like a whistle.

Like a little song.

A song sung by a forest...

within a forest...

a thousand years ago.

Look! They are here! Tereza's pictures!

-Two full pages!

-Thanks, Sabina!

Congratulations! They're great.

Tereza, this is my colleague Jiri,

and this is the Chief.

-Hello.

-I'm pleased.

Wonderful!

You've really captured a new spirit here.

You can see how everything is changing.

Not everything. Look over there.

Our comrades with the Russians.

Some people never change.

Some people are always scoundrels.

How can you tell?

I always ask myself,

"Does it show in a man's face?

"Can we judge by the face of a man

if he is a scoundrel or not?"

Let's look at them and see.

Scoundrel.

-Scoundrel.

-Scoundrel.

-Scoundrel.

-Scoundrel.

Scoundrel.

-No doubt.

-Definitely.

We know you. Scoundrels.

What would you say about Tomas?

-He's definitely a scoundrel.

-Why?

Why? Is it the mouth?

The sly eyes?

No, it's carefully hidden in the brain.

Such things are hidden in all of our brains.

-So what makes the difference?

-Maybe only one-millionth part.

Maybe there is no difference.

These men don't even know

if they're scoundrels or not.

Are you serious?

More than 100,000 people...

were imprisoned, tortured

and executed in their regime.

And now these men cry out...

that they didn't know anything.

That they were misled or manipulated.

That they were innocent.

Not innocent, but...

unaware, perhaps.

Oh, please, they had to know

what they were doing.

Otherwise, it's unthinkable.

It doesn't matter

whether they knew or not.

-I've been thinking about Oedipus.

-Good King Oedipus.

Is sleeping with your mother

the same sort of crime?

When Oedipus realized

that he had killed his father...

unknowingly killed his father...

and was sleeping with his mother...

and that because of his crimes,

plagues were ravaging his city...

he couldn't bear the sight

of what he'd done.

He plucked out his own eyes and left.

He did not feel innocent.

He felt he had to punish himself.

But our leaders, unlike Oedipus...

they felt they were innocent.

And when the atrocities...

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