Monday, December 26, 2011

The poster for the "Pete the Hedgehog" short-film project, a film that never made it, designed by André Marques (*) :

And Emma's, the Chechen runaway, epilogue final monologue:

"When I found Pedro he seemed like a fearful wild animal, caught in a trap. I asked him for light and he asked me if I’d like to sit and have a drink, he later told me he had only done it like that because he was drunk. I hadn’t eaten for a long time so I soon caught up with him. 
I thanked him and accepted the invitation, he poured me some wine on a plastic cup and we sat for hours watching the day go by, talking about things in general. From time to time he would look at me for a second and then look back again, like if he was afraid. He looked like one of the stray cats he had at his place, like he had been abandoned a long time, or ran over, I don’t know. When I looked at him I saw he couldn’t take it much longer.
It was my fifth night there, I had been sleeping in the streets for the last two days when I ran out of money, and I thought “I’ll have to beg now; I hope the police men don’t catch me, they’ll send me back and it will begin all over again".
I looked around for a person to ask for light, thought about how many times women in my situation sleep with men picked up in the street in order not to be caught by the police in public areas. "I’d rather die", I thought, "if only God would take me now instead of leaving me here". Then Pedro gave me light and asked if I’d like to sit for a while and have a drink. Probably he could tell I was loose by the way I looked, I was washing myself in public bathrooms, at the beginning I had two suitcases, then I had to let one go, after I tried to sell the clothes in a second-hand shop.
Not much food and public bathrooms, then it began to rain and I saw an old cinema where they were screening a David Lean film and it was cheap enough for me to enter the room. I was tired but couldn’t fall asleep. The film was beautiful, though. When I got out the night had fallen and the rain was gone. I sat in the stairway for a long time, looking to people as they passed by.
Then, again, the night in the streets. The night of the iguana, all over again.
The next day I asked for light to a boy in the park and out of the blue he invited me to go to his place. I don’t know how we he managed to climb back from the hole he was in then. I suppose that, in a way, we were put together by chance, and that we both were waiting for that chance without knowing or believing anymore it could happen.
Those days were the happiest of my life. We would wake up and smile at each other, drunk by the love between us. We thought of having a child, of getting jobs and fixing the house. He got his arms around me and I felt as nothing could happen to us anymore, that finally we had arrived at land and that there were trees under which we could give ourselves the pleasure of some wishful thinking. At the same time I could see he was getting worse of his illness, whatever it was. One day he disappeared leaving a note. He told me about not being able to resist further to the feeling that all was about to break at any minute. Two weeks later I knew of his death by the papers. He got into the forest and blew his brains with a shotgun. By the time his body was found, under a tree on a hill, he had already been partially eaten by wild animals and covered with flies. In a way I imagine he would have liked it better that way, to be left there slowly decomposing and feeding the tree.
For a long while I felt that I would never cope."