Amorosa Page #4

I'll sue my mother!

For forgery!

This violates both

Sprengel and me!

Calm down! To accuse your own mother

for something like that...

I never want to see her again!

I hate her!

Don't tell Sprengel. He can

never know what they have done to him!

Agnes... Agnes?

Agnes?

Mrs. ran away.

To where?

She said something about

"that damn will"...

Forgive me, I'd like to know what

was in that will, for the sake of my wife.

The case is... If Mrs. Sprengel

would die before Mr. Sprengel,

Without leaving any children behind,

All assets will go to Mrs. Sprengel's

siblings and their children.

If you outlive your wife, you won't

come into possession of the family estate.

Mrs. Sprengel wanted to keep

this from you.

Bring me a glass of wine,

mother.

But don't poison it

with you your vile acid.

For my beloved father

in the sky...

Wants to hear me laugh and cheer!

You old hag!

No, he couldn't stand you,

you twisted his every word.

Hired shrew wrote a will

for the sake of the money!

Like thieves you sent,

when the deed was done,

to the courthouse,

my forged will!

You hag!

F***ing hag!

Well spoken, my friend!

My only friend...

Off you go to the pawnbroker with my

rings so we can drink a toast together!

My dear mother gave me this.

She hates my books!

She says I'm a stigma for

the swedish literary scene!

Although, the press says I'm the

most talented of the new young guard!

She thinks my view of life

is vicious.

But I write for adults.

I seek the truth.

Even if I need to

look for it in hell!

Let us toast to ourselves.

Who is sane? Who is insane?

My husband poured the salt into my

novels and made the irony sharp-edged.

It was he who wrote all the filth!

I guess filth makes books more popular.

Do you really believe... it was me who

thought of those bloody incest scenes?!

My husband distorted it all!

Write down what I have said!

The truth must be revealed in the papers!

My husband wrote 12 pages of perversities

in my latest book! Did you write that down?

Of course, Mrs. Sprengel.

Once I'm dead,

all my novels will be published...!

Everyone hates me

for what I have written.

My writing has become

too much for me to handle.

I started to write

to sort out my life.

Through myself I wanted to get to know

humanity. To be able to depict others.

I only had myself to turn to...

But am I enough?

Wasn't my search sincere?

Wasn't I true to myself?

Isn't my talent enough?

Oh, God, I'm not enough!

Your name is Mats.

Please Mr...

...give me a cigarette, only one!

When my husband arrives,

I'll pay for it.

Honestly.

He hits me

when he's drunk. He says:

"You hurt the one you love. " He'll go

to jail for this, what, if I'll testify?

Bittersweet as love...

And it all disappears in smoke!

Dear, non-existing God,

let me sit here all my life.

I'll never forget that you

gave me a cigarette. Officer.

I would have sold my soul

for a smoke.

I want to leave before my husband arrives.

You can't imagine the turmoil

that will arise. My husband isn't sober.

He will

smash the windows.

He can beat a woman to pieces.

Mrs. wasn't exactly in pieces...

Don't you understand metaphorical language?

I'm in pieces...

...Even if my limbs

are still intact...!

I'm ruined...

I hate him!

I mean, I love him.

But he abuses me, Officer!

I talk a lot of crap. It's

only a temporary delirium.

I have been reading too much. Sometimes

I'm paranoid, sometimes hysterical.

But I'm convinced

I have syphilis.

He's so tremendously

good to me, Officer.

I feel like a rascal when

I think about what I've done!

I've destroyed parts of my life

and other people's lives!

So, I found you...

My heart is pecking so dull, and my

pulse is about to stop from anxiety.

Boo-boo wants to go home

and scratch on papers...

...and scratch on all

the furnitures, and bark.

Boo-boo can't live

without her Master.

Let's go home. Be as kind to me

as I've been cruel to you.

What's on your mind?

Terrible things.

So terrible that you

can't even tell me?

Dear David... If I write

without consideration of my family,

Does that make me a bad person?

No, but truth begets hatred!

Is revenge a bad thing?

No, revenge is human.

It will make me feel guilty.

Revenge is sweet, too.

To hate ones mother,

is that a crime, Pa?

Mother and daughter is a grateful topic.

The mother with the dead eyes...

Gerhard with the cold eyes,

Adolf with the evil eyes...

My father with the fair, tender eyes...

Poor nobility. Indigent, paltry,

greedy, yet posh!

I want to portray a family that

sits at the bottom of a burrow.

Their only view is a sultry sky.

Where did the time go, Pa? I'm still

in my nursery.

I'll never get out. Well.

Perhaps if I write it all down.

When I was personal,

they said I was sick.

Now when my writing is facile

they call it "delicate watercolors"!

My family will be pleased.

My mother sent me these flowers...!

But you're not happy, even though

my novels are a success.

An artist is not an artist

unless he gives everything he's got.

You will become one of the great, but you

must venture. You still have a far way to go!

Do I have the strength, Pa?

Opposition makes one strong.

Adolf was prudish. He couldn't

sleep if his toothbrush wasn't dry.

A limited world.

False, trivial people.

Adolf loved to dress up

as a girl.

My father weighed the sugar,

mixed the butter with flour...

...baked bread over the fire

in the tile stoves...

Drunken butlers in castles

and manors... Homosexuality...

...love between a brother and a sister...

...insanity in the family...

...anxiety...

This will be your biography.

My aunt was a kleptomaniac.

My mother hysterical!

The story of my life

on a few pieces of paper.

How cruel! How silly!

Take them away.

Take them away. Take them away!

What is it that you're trying to take away?

The others, my family. They torment me.

Can't you see that my eyes

are my mother's eyes? They haunt me.

Enter the land of the irresponsible,

my love, even if it's guarded by ghosts.

Forget all consideration. The only

thing that matters, is yourself.

Thanks, Pa.

There, there, it's time for your morphine.

God, I'm at Langbro now.

Or is it Konradsberg?

You shouldn't have to end up in an institution.

We'll get you a private nurse.

Am I manic or depressive?

Sane or insane? Tell me!

You are sane. It's they who are crazy.

Tell my mother, tell the world!

That's what I'm doing,

Boo-boo.

I flew myself tired, Pa. I wanted to

blast the blue wall of the horizon.

But I never made it,

not even to the wall.

I'm flying, Pa! I'm flying!

So, the Countess refuse

to pay directly to us?

Where are your "motherly" feelings? I

need to keep this from Agnes.

She's going through a severe crisis. It's

expensive, medications, doctors.

Self-absorbed hag!

C*nt!

Does nurse Klara love herself?

I don't contemplate about those things.

The sane! A thousand fen fire's are dancing

over the earth, and you can't see them.

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